


The Pact

by sneetchstar



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-04
Updated: 2017-04-06
Packaged: 2018-10-14 15:46:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 35,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10539561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sneetchstar/pseuds/sneetchstar
Summary: Arthur and Guinevere make an agreement on their 25th birthday.





	1. Prologue

Arthur Pendragon and Guinevere Leodegrance have the same birthday. It's one of the few things they have in common, yet this one shared day served as the basis for a friendship that has lasted since their first year of college.

They celebrate together every year, just the two of them. Merlin always tries to horn in on their birthday date. He never succeeds, Arthur generally rebuffing him with a, "Piss off, it's not _your_ birthday," while Guinevere gently promises to do something with him the next day.

On their 21st birthday, they got drunk together in Arthur's apartment and shared a rather sloppy makeout session that lead to nothing apart from them passing out on his bed, Guinevere's shirt unbuttoned and Arthur's trousers open but still on.

Arthur tried not to be too disappointed when he woke up the morning after and found that she had left. He simply texted her later that morning asking how her head felt (his was pounding) and was relieved – and a little disappointed – when she acted as if he had not gotten to over-the-bra second base with her the previous night.

He understood though. As different as they are, they understand each other.

So they don't talk about their 21st birthday. Not because the kissing wasn't enjoyable or they regret doing it, but because they're both so embarrassed by their drunken behavior that night.

As a result, Guinevere imposed a strict two-drink limit for herself from which she refuses to budge, even on New Year's Eve.

And Arthur generally stopped letting himself drink to excess after that as well. If he does, it's when he's in the company of just the lads. Or at least not Guinevere.

When they graduated from college, it got more difficult to see one another, but they still made sure to keep their annual birthday date. Arthur went to work for his father's business as expected. Guinevere took two more years and earned her master's in botany.

As they approached 25, people started asking Questions. Making Remarks.

"Now that you're done with school, don't you think it's time to settle down? Find a nice man?"

"Arthur, I _would_ like to live to see my grandchildren."

Never mind that Elyan has done just that – found a nice man and settled down. Guinevere finds it highly amusing to respond to her father's query with that bit of information.

And never mind that Morgana and Alvarr just had their _second_ gorgeous, dark haired cherub. Uther merely _humphs_ when Arthur points this out, claiming, "That's not what I mean and you know it."

It's not just their fathers. It's anyone who thinks their opinion should matter. Relatives, friends, even nosy old ladies at church.

Guinevere and Arthur are both growing very tired of the Questions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since Angel's birthday is August 30 and Bradley's is October 11, I have picked September 17th as their shared birthday for this fic.


	2. 25

_We still on for Saturday?_ Arthur's text comes on Thursday while Guinevere is having lunch. She smiles. He always confirms. Arthur is a Planner.

_Of course. Looking forward to it. :)_

_Me too._ Then, a few seconds later: _I have an idea about something._

Intrigued, she replies, _What?_

_I will tell you Saturday. Needs to be discussed in person._

xXx

By the time Saturday comes, Guinevere is on pins and needles, ridiculously curious about Arthur's "idea". She tried two more times to get him to tell her, but he refused.

Arthur is a shrewd businessman, even at his young age. He knows how to say "No".

So she waits, trying not to get annoyed with his evasiveness. The car arrives for her at precisely 6:45, and she makes certain she is ready. Punctuality is another trait they have in common.

"Hello, George," Guinevere greets the driver. Arthur always sends his personal driver for her and either uses one of the general staff drivers or drives himself. Depending on where they go, sometimes he is in the car, but this time, their meeting place is between their homes.

They take turns picking the location and paying for the dinners. This year, it is Guinevere's choice, and she chooses a cozy Italian place.

George pulls up in front and Arthur appears out of nowhere to open the car door for her. "Hey," he greets.

"Have you been waiting long?" Guinevere asks, stepping out. She leans up and gives him a hug and a friendly kiss on the cheek, which he returns.

"Just got here," he answers. "Happy birthday."

"Happy birthday," she replies, grinning as he opens the door for her.

They have a reservation and are immediately seated in a corner booth. "Nice," Arthur assesses. "Did you request this?"

"Yeah," she admits. "Since I don't know what your 'idea' is I took a guess that a modicum of privacy might be welcome." She pauses at his amused expression. "Was I wrong?"

He twists his lips to the side and half-shrugs. "Not really. I mean, yeah, I want to keep it between just us, but it's not like I want to plan a jewel heist or anything."

"Aw," she replies, dramatically frowning. "I would have totally been down for a jewel heist."

"You would not," he laughs. "Aren't you the same person who refused to go for a midnight swim with Merlin and me in the fountain during our senior year because," he gasps, clutching imaginary pearls, "we might get caught!"

"Shut up," she laughs, "and you _did_ get caught."

"Yeah, all right, we did, but nothing happened," he reminds her. The waiter appears, takes their drink orders, and disappears.

"I suppose we should look at the menus," Guinevere reasons, picking hers up. She knows Arthur isn't going to spill the beans right away anyway.

"I know what I'm having," Arthur says after only briefly glancing at his menu. "And I don't even know why you're bothering to look, because I know what _you're_ going to order as well."

"You do not," she protests.

"Guinevere," he says, giving her a _look._ "We go through this at every restaurant. You always look at the menu, then get the same item you always order at that particular establishment. We go to Nick's, you get the fried chicken. At Bluebird, you get the teriyaki burger. The Rising Sun is the breakfast special, even if it isn't morning. Scrambled eggs, bacon crispy."

"Sometimes I get the shrimp special at Nick's," she feebly answers, closing the menu and scowling at him.

"But that's only on Saturdays," he says. The waiter returns with their drinks and asks for their order.

"He's going to have the cheese tortellini alfredo, salad with poppyseed dressing on the side, and garlic bread," Guinevere says, then sticks her tongue out at Arthur.

The waiter gives Arthur a questioning look, pen hovering over his pad.

"She's right," Arthur says with a sigh. Then he raises an eyebrow at her. "Fine then. _She_ will have the chicken parmesan with mostaccioli, the… what are your soups tonight?"

"Chicken Florentine or minnestrone," the baffled waiter answers.

"Chicken Florentine," Arthur confidently declares. "And French bread," he concludes. Then he looks at her and adds, "Because you like to dip it in your soup."

The waiter looks at her and she nods. "Yeah, he's right, darn it all."

"Are you two… celebrating an anniversary or something, or…?" the waiter ventures.

"It's our birthday," Arthur answers.

"Both of you?"

"Yep."

"Oh. Um, happy birthday then," the waiter replies, nods, and departs.

"Why did you have to tell him?" Guinevere asks.

"Um, because we'll get free tiramisu," Arthur answers as though it should be obvious. He may not mind being made a public spectacle in exchange for free dessert, but Guinevere is less enthusiastic about it.

"Ugh, you are impossible," she replies, knowing full well she should be grateful because it is her turn to pay this year and if there is going to be dessert, free is the best kind.

"I'm not impossible," he argues. "I'm merely exasperating. There is a definite difference." He lifts his drink and holds it aloft in her direction. "Happy birthday, my friend," he says.

She clinks her glass – Diet Coke with a slice of lime – against his beer and replies, "Happy birthday, Arthur."

He sets his glass down rather decisively, and she knows he's finally going to share this mysterious Idea with her. "A pact," he declares.

She says nothing for a moment, then her eyebrows lift. "A pact? Like… you shoot me and I shoot you?" These days, the only pacts anyone hears about are suicide pacts, and even those are rare.

He laughs. "No, nothing that lethal. Hope not, anyway, though it might seem like a good idea by the time…" He shakes his head. "No." He leans forward and angles himself slightly towards her, folding his hands on the table. "If we are both still single by the time we're 30 – no spouses, fiancés, or serious significant others – we just marry each other."

She blinks, stunned. Her mouth opens, then closes. Then she shakes her head, trying to clear it, takes a breath, and laughingly replies, "Arthur Pendragon, are you proposing?"

He doesn't laugh. "In a sense, I suppose I am."

Her smile falls. "You're serious."

"Quite." When she still doesn't reply, he adds, "Am I that horrible?" He looks genuinely worried.

"No!" she immediately exclaims, then, "No. Not at all." She sighs. "I mean, you're nice, smart, and… handsome, and…" She pauses while he preens. "Shut up, you know you are," she laughs. "Okay, so by all accounts, you're a catch."

"So are you," he counters. "We're both gorgeous, successful people who aren't pillocks. So what's the problem?"

She can only laugh again at his smug casualness. He has always had this way of being confident without appearing arrogant, and, if pressed, she would admit that it is attractive. "It's just… weird."

"What's weird about it? You're one of my best friends, Guinevere, and I'd rather be married to someone with whom I know I'll at least get on than to some… empty-headed, pedigreed bimbo who merely looks good on my arm but will bore me in less than a month."

 _He does have a point, bizarre though it is._ "Five years," she says.

He nods.

The waiter brings their soup and salad, giving Guinevere another few moments to think over Arthur's idea. Proposition. Proposal.

"Okay," she suddenly answers. _Why not? Five years is a long time. A lot can happen._

"Okay?"

"But," she interjects, "we have to at least _try_ to date during that time. Other people, I mean. To make things fair."

It wasn't what he was expecting, but he appreciates a person who knows how to negotiate. "Very well," he says, extending his right hand across the table.

"Oh," she says, taking his hand and shaking it. "You don't have a contract or anything for me to sign?" she asks, only half joking.

He smiles. "I trust you." In fact, she is one of very few people Arthur knows who he completely trusts.

She regards him for a moment, wondering if _she_ should trust _him._ Deciding that wouldn't be fair at all, she merely nods. "I trust you, too."

He raises his glass, and she clinks hers against it again. "It's settled then," he toasts, and they both drink.

"Ugh," Guinevere sighs, setting her drink down.

"What 'Ugh'?" Arthur asks. "Is your drink off?"

"No," she answers. "Just… dating. I'm not looking forward to, you know, _trying._ "

He laughs, throwing his head back. Other diners cast curious glances in their direction, and she sheepishly smiles, slightly embarrassed.

Arthur, having grown up the son of Camelot's wealthiest and most well-known businessman, has no such qualms. He draws stares wherever he goes and is quite accustomed to it.

"See, this is what I mean," he says, recovering from his laughter. "You always make me laugh. I mean that in a good way."

"I know," she answers, smiling.

"And, for what it's worth, I'm probably looking forward to this 'dating' thing less than you are," he admits. "You know how it is for me."

She gives his hand a sympathetic pat. He may be accustomed to being noticed, but his pedigree makes finding a potential wife problematic. Unlike his father, Arthur has morals. _Integrity._ If he even so much as suspects his date is only interested in _what_ he is instead of _who,_ he cuts her loose.

It's made for some very interesting dinner parties. Guinevere has even seen it happen once or twice.

The truth is, neither one of them have been putting much effort into dating. Arthur has his issues with his background and name, plus he's more interested in making his own mark in his father's empire than having a social life. Guinevere has been working very hard at her job at Camelot Botanic Gardens, trying to get her efforts there noticed enough in the hopes of being offered a new, higher ranking position that will be opening in about six months due to someone retiring.

"I know. But you know there are plenty of women out there who don't care about things like money and pedigrees," she says.

"Yeah, unfortunately they don't come with warning labels," he counters.

"Well, neither do men," she says, pointing her spoon at him.

"Fair point," he concedes.

Their food arrives a short time later, and conversation turns towards more general things. Work, family, summer holidays. Arthur shows Guinevere the latest pictures of his niece and nephew. Guinevere tells him about the house Elyan and Percival have just purchased and how they're _already_ asking her for landscaping advice.

The Marriage Pact hasn't been forgotten though. It's lurking in the backs of their minds, nestling into the bases of their brains, taking root right beside the hidden memories of their 21st birthday.

xXx

 _I should call her and tell her never mind. Forget the whole thing._ Arthur rolls over in his bed, having second thoughts about the agreement he just made with Guinevere. His best friend. _Well, her and Merlin._

_But there's no way I'd marry Merlin, even if I'm still single at age 90._

He flops onto his back, staring at the ceiling. It seemed like a good idea when he thought of it last week. He doesn't even remember what planted the idea in his mind in the first place. It just came to him on the way to work.

_I'm just lonely and annoyed. Frustrated with how badly things have turned out with everyone I've dated._

_Getting tired of the comments about me still being single._

He knows the questions are still going to come, but maybe if he actually puts a little more effort into dating, people won't ask as often.

_Guinevere's condition was smart. She's a very smart person. One of the reasons why I like her._

He rolls on to his side and picks his phone up off of the nightstand. He pulls up the string of texts, fingers hovering over the keyboard, trying to decide if he should text her and call the whole thing off.

"Sod it all," he says, and puts his phone back down. A moment later, he picks it back up. His finger slips and her contact info comes up on the screen.

He smiles at her photo, remembering when he took it. He was intending to take her picture specifically for the purpose of using it as her contact photo, and she pulled a silly face at one point, not realizing his finger was poised over the button.

So of course that was the one he kept. As he looks at her with her face all scrunched and tongue sticking out, he decides not to back out of the agreement.

_There really isn't a downside here._

xXx

Guinevere almost calls Merlin. Even though her conversation with Arthur progressed to other topics, the Marriage Pact was always in the background, like a buzzing fluorescent light or a dripping faucet, just on the edge of consciousness.

Now, at home, in bed, she is having trouble falling asleep. She just wants to tell _someone,_ wanting to unload some of this weirdness onto another person.

The only thing stopping her is the fact that she and Arthur decided – promised each other – they would keep this between them. No one else should know, because it isn't anyone else's business.

Probably a good thing. People will think they've gone insane.

 _The whole thing seems like a bad romantic comedy_. The thought makes her laugh, and she reaches for her phone, thinking she might text that to Arthur. She stops herself, suddenly unsure if he would be cool with her mentioning it. She kind of got the impression that once the agreement was made, it was not to be mentioned unless absolutely necessary.

_Probably for the best. Otherwise it might taint our efforts to date people. Plus if we keep talking about it, things might start getting weird between us._

She looks at Arthur's photo in her phone – he's striking a pose intended to be heroic and dashing – smiles, and sets it back down.

 _Ugh. Why did I add that condition?_ She sighs and snuggles down into her bed. _I guess I just wanted to… what? Make sure I've kissed enough frogs before finding my prince?_

She snorts a small laugh at the thought of Arthur being a prince. _Her_ prince, specifically. "Prince Arthur," she mutters aloud, chuckling.

_I guess it's time to start going out and finding frogs then._

The last thought of which she is consciously aware before she finally drifts off to sleep is _This is so strange. But I could definitely do much worse than Arthur._

xXx

"I've met someone." Guinevere's declaration takes Arthur completely by surprise.

Just over two months have passed. It's now late November, and the holidays are approaching. Guinevere has been spending most of her fall cataloging and storing the various seeds, tubers, and rhizomes that she and her colleagues have harvested from the outdoor gardens, and has now moved on to working in the three large greenhouses.

That's where she ran into Helios. Literally.

She was looking down at her clipboard as she walked – a bad habit, she knows this – and collided with the very solid planes of a tall, fit man's chest.

"Oh, excuse me," she stammered, embarrassed.

"Entirely my fault," he smoothly answered, smiling appreciatively down at the dusky blush gracing her cheeks.

"Um, thanks, but no, that was all me," she countered, taking a step back to more easily look up at him. "I…" she slightly lifts her clipboard, "I have a tendency to read and walk at the same time."

"That's quite dangerous in a place like this," he replied, waving his arm to indicate the numerous cacti surrounding them in the desert greenhouse.

"Oh, I know this place like the back of my hand," she airily answered, chuckling a bit awkwardly.

"I'm sure you do," he said with a nod. He extended his hand. "Helios Torrance."

"Gwen Leodegrance," she replied, shifting her clipboard to shake his hand. "Are you… simply visiting us, or…?"

"Potential investor, trying to decide if I am interested in making a charitable donation," he explained. "And I am definitely interested."

She blinked. _Is he chatting me up? I think he's chatting me up._

"…So to make an already long story shorter, we exchanged numbers and we're supposed to go out this weekend," Guinevere concludes after filling Arthur in on the details.

"Wow, good job," Arthur says. He feels a slight twinge at her news, but assures himself that it's just his natural competitiveness tweaking him because she managed to secure a date – a _real_ date – before he did. He's had an a few possibilities, but nothing has panned out. "Helios Torrance, you say?"

"Yeah, do you know him?"

"Only by reputation, and I don't know anything that would be of any interest to you. All business stuff," he answers. "Are you sure it's not a conflict of interest?" he asks. "I don't want things to get awkward for you at work if it doesn't turn out," he hastily adds.

"No, not at all. He's made his donation and that's it. He's funding the refurbishing of the rose garden for next spring," she explains.

"Yeah, that could do with an update," he replies. "It was looking a little overgrown this summer."

She smiles. She likes that he pays attention to those things. The Pendragon Group has been a longtime patron of the Botanic Gardens, paying for the maintenance of the Children's Garden as well as the Ygraine Pendragon Memorial Garden, which is a traditional English cottage garden, complete with a replica of the cottage Arthur's maternal grandparents lived in.

"He mentioned taking me to The Lake," Guinevere says.

"Which lake?" Arthur asks.

She laughs. "The trendy new restaurant, Arthur."

"Oh, _that_ Lake," he says. "You'll have to let me know how it is. It looks pretty pretentious."

"Well, I'll let you know if the Riff-Raff Alarm goes off when I walk in," she replies with a laugh.

"Never happen," he says, amused. "You've spent far too much time with me to be considered riff-raff."

She snorts. "Right. The only reason you're _not_ riff-raff is because you have a Name. You're just as common as Merlin and me at heart," she says.

"Thank you," he answers with a smile, knowing she means it as a compliment.

xXx

By Christmas, Guinevere and Helios were dating exclusively and Arthur still hadn't found someone that lasted longer than two dates.

He was beginning to get discouraged.

Especially when they show up together at the annual Pendragon Group New Year's Eve Gala, Helios looking quite dashing in his tailored tuxedo and Guinevere stunning in her red ball gown.

Arthur looks around the ballroom of the new Dragon Hotel, their latest acquisition. He's supposed to be mingling, but he's staying to the edges right now, just surveying the crowd.

He feels someone move to stand beside him, but doesn't turn. The person leans closer, placing his head right beside Arthur's, trying to follow his gaze.

"Gwen looks happy," Merlin assesses, straightening up again.

"She does," Arthur answers.

"She looks really good, too," Merlin adds.

"Yes," Arthur agrees.

"Jealous?" Merlin asks, smirking.

Arthur finally turns. "I could ask the same of you."

Merlin snorts a laugh, clapping his friend on the shoulder. "She—"

"Arthur." Uther's voice interrupts them. "Emrys," he curtly greets Merlin.

"Mr. Pendragon," Merlin replies. "Nice party," he says, nods, and disappears. He doesn't care much for Uther, and always gets the distinct impression that the feeling is mutual.

"Arthur, I don't believe you've met Olaf Eriksson," Uther says, introducing a tall blonde man beside him.

Olaf nods and extends his hand. "Mr. Pendragon," he greets.

"Arthur," Arthur returns. "Pleasure to meet you. I've heard a lot about your work with security systems. Very state-of-the-art," he says. His father clearly wishes to partner with Olaf to get Viking Security to be used exclusively in his hotels, so Arthur turns on the charm.

"Thank you," Olaf answers, but doesn't smile. Arthur gets the impression that he's not the smiling type. "Pendragon tells me you're to be running this ship?" he nods around, indicating the hotel.

"Yes," Arthur answers. "Merry Christmas to me," he adds with a chuckle.

"Hm," Olaf replies, and Arthur _thinks_ that might have been a laugh.

"There you are, Daddy!" A high-pitched voice interrupts them, and Arthur turns to see a beautiful, petite blonde in a blue dress heading towards them.

She's lovely, with flowing waves of golden hair cascading over her shoulders and big blue eyes that perfectly match her dress.

Arthur is intrigued, but cautious. _She is the daughter of Olaf Eriksson, so I probably shouldn't…_

"Ah! Arthur, this is Eriksson's daughter, Vivian," Uther introduces, smiling fondly at the girl. "Why don't you escort her to the bar and see that she gets a glass of champagne?" he suggests.

Arthur looks from his father's face to Olaf's, then back again, a bit puzzled. "Of course," he finally says, offering his arm. "Pleased to meet you, Vivian," he says.

She smiles. "Nice to meet you, too. Arthur, right?" she asks.

"You are correct," he answers. They start walking towards the bar.

"That was a little transparent of them," Vivian says, catching Arthur off guard.

"Hmm?" he asks.

"'Why don't you escort her to the bar'," she says, doing a comically poor imitation of Uther's voice.

Arthur laughs. "Wow," he says. "But yeah, I was kind of thrown by that." They get to the bar and he turns to her. "Not that I'm complaining," he adds. "Not one bit."

Vivian blushes prettily and lowers her eyes. "I don't have any complaints, either," she admits, looking back up at him.

xXx

"Who is that with Arthur?" Guinevere asks, almost to herself, nearly forgetting Helios is pasted to her side.

"I believe that's Olaf Eriksson's daughter. Her name escapes me at the moment. Pretty little thing. If you're into that type, I mean," answers, narrowing his eyes. "It seems your friend Arthur definitely is."

Arthur has always seemed to have a preference for blondes. _Well except for that one drunken… no. Don't go there, Gwen._ "Good for him," she says, puzzled to feel less conviction than she has put forth. "They make an attractive couple."

Helios raises an eyebrow. "I thought you and he were just friends?" he asks.

"Huh?" Guinevere's eyes widen just slightly. "We are, but surely even you can admit Arthur is handsome."

He laughs, lifting her hand to kiss it. "This suits you so well," he says, admiring the cuff bracelet he had given her for Christmas. This is the first time she's worn it out. It is white gold with an open filigree pattern, studded throughout with diamonds. "I'm happy you decided to wear it."

"Thank you," she says. In truth, her tastes are a bit more reserved, but she figured if there were ever an appropriate occasion to wear his extravagant gift, this is it. "Dance with me," she says, smiling up at him.

"I cannot refuse you anything, darling," he replies, and they walk to the dance floor.

xXx

"What is Helios Torrance doing with _her_?" Uther asks, materializing at Arthur's side while he waits for Vivian to return from the ladies'.

Arthur jumps. "Geez, Father, you need to stop that. You're like a bloody vampire," he says. "And she has a name."

Uther sighs. "Fine, what is Helios Torrance doing with your friend _Guinevere_?" he asks.

 _Honestly, I know she doesn't really meet his societal "standards", but I know deep down he can't help but like her._ "They've been dating for over a month now," he answers. "Not that it's any of your concern."

"Hmm," Uther replies, watching the couple. "They look well together."

"Yeah, I guess," Arthur halfheartedly agrees. At his father's pointed stare, he adds, "I haven't really given it much thought."

"Hmm," Uther repeats.

"What are you 'hmm'-ing about?" Arthur asks.

"Let's just say Mr. Torrance's strengths fall squarely in the categories of business and finance. His weaknesses lie elsewhere. Or so I've heard," Uther cryptically comments.

"What the hell does that mean?" Arthur says, turning to look at his father just as Vivian reappears.

"Oh, hello, dear. Is my son taking good care of you?" Uther asks, giving her a charming smile.

"Yes, very much so," Vivian says, taking Arthur's arm.

"Excellent," Uther assesses with a nod, then walks away.

"Would you like to dance?" Arthur asks. "It's nearly midnight…" he trails off, hoping she will be amenable to a New Year's kiss. She smiles brightly and takes his hand.

xXx

The call came shortly after Valentine's Day.

Arthur blinks awake, scrambling for his phone. "Guinevere?" he answers, puzzled as to why she is calling so early on a Tuesday morning.

He can hear her ragged breathing as she struggles through what are obviously tears to speak.

"What's wrong?" he asks, immediately thinking someone has died.

"Why is she calling so bloody early?" Vivian complains, burrowing into the sheets.

"She's upset about something, Viv. Go back to sleep," he softly tells her, Guinevere's sobs reaching his ear.

"I can't go back to sleep with you yammering on right next to me," Vivian petulantly snaps.

Arthur flips the covers back and swings his feet to the floor. He pulls his shorts on, and just as he reaches the door, he hears Vivian whine, "Arthur? You're leaving me here?" He closes the door. Guinevere needs him right now.

"He…" Guinevere tries again.

"Take a deep breath… I'll wait," he replies, sitting on the couch.

"He's a fucking cheater," Guinevere finally says, her voice thick and wavering.

Suddenly, Uther's cryptic comment on New Year's Eve makes sense. "Oh, no…" Arthur replies, sitting up. "Bastard," he spits. "What happened? Can you tell me or do you need to collect yourself?"

"He… his mobile… it rang…" Guinevere says. "He was in the shower… I was still in bed… I… I just glanced over… you know, because it was making noise…"

"Perfectly natural," Arthur agrees.

"The name on the screen was…" She stops, and he can hear her blow her nose. "It said, 'Bae'."

"Shit."

"He doesn't call me that… I didn't even know he knew that sodding term…"

"Did you answer it?" he asks. He's experiencing multiple emotions right now: heartbreak and sadness for Guinevere, rage at Helios. _How fucking dare he?_

"Damn right I did," she says, starting to calm down now as anger begins to take over. "His phone is normally locked, but you know… you don't have to put the code in when a call comes…"

"Good girl."

"It was some American bird," she continues. "I simply said, 'Hello?' and she starts in thinking I'm his bloody _secretary_ or something. I stopped her and asked who she was. I wasn't terribly cordial about it either."

"What did she say?" he asks, caught up, literally on the edge of his seat now.

"She said…" she pauses, taking a breath, "She said, 'This is his fucking girlfriend. Who the fuck are you?'"

"Oh, shit…" Arthur exhales, eyebrows nearly at his hairline.

"Yeah. So I informed her that I was _also_ his girlfriend, and he was currently unavailable because he was using _my_ shower," Guinevere says. "She flipped out. Started calling me all sorts of names."

"She should be yelling at him, not you," he replies. "Twat."

"She did! She stopped right in the middle of calling me the c-word, like she had some sort of epiphany and went, 'That _fucking_ bastard.' Then she _apologized_ to me and said she didn't know about me either."

"Wow."

"It gets better."

"Oh, no."

"Oh, _yes._ She's much more devious than I am. Asked me to stay on the phone with her until he came back from his shower. Her name is Isabel and she's from… North Carolina. Or South Carolina. Something like that. She's here on a work exchange."

"Oh are you chums now?" he asks, unable to help himself.

"I don't know, maybe," she answers. "Anyway."

"Yes. Sorry."

"He came in, _my_ towel around his waist. I just smiled up at him and said, 'Good morning… Bae,' and handed him his mobile."

"Bloody hell, Guinevere!" Arthur exclaims.

"It was her idea," she admits. "I could hear her yelling at him while I was walking around gathering up any and everything he had in my flat and throwing it all in a plastic bag…" she trails off, tears starting again.

"Oh, honey, I'm sorry," Arthur says.

"It's all right… I… I'll be okay…" Guinevere replies.

"I know you will, but you're allowed to _not_ be okay for a little while. You know that, right?" he gently asks.

"Yeah," she whispers. He can almost hear her nod. "Sorry for waking you."

"Guinevere, you know you can call me any time," he replies.

"Vivian didn't sound too pleased about it," she says, sniffling.

Arthur looks at the closed bedroom door. "Yeah, she's good at that," he mutters.

"Is everything okay?" Guinevere asks.

He smiles at her ability to put aside her own problems to express concern for him. "We're not talking about me right now," he deflects. "You're calling into work today."

"I… I can go in…"

"That was neither a question nor a suggestion, Guinevere. I'll call in, too, and I bet we can get Merlin to skive off as well. We'll go do something fun."

"It's tax season," she reminds him. Merlin is very busy this time of year, being the financial wizard he is.

"He does corporate accounts. It's _always_ tax season for Merlin," Arthur points out. He pauses. "Do you want me to call him and tell him?"

"He'll want to hear it from me," she says, but doesn't sound too enthused about telling the story again. At least not this morning.

"He will understand," he assures her. "I'll pick you up at ten and we'll go have brunch in Ealdor."

"Can we visit Hunith?" she asks.

They all love Merlin's mother, and Arthur knows seeing her will definitely help Guinevere feel better. "Of course. We can't go to Ealdor and _not_ visit Hunith. She'd have our heads."

"I don't know what to do with this bracelet," Guinevere absently says.

"You didn't give it back to him?" Arthur asks.

"I tried. He wouldn't take it. I put it in anyway, but I just found it on the table by the door," she explains.

"You don't need to worry about that right now," Arthur advises. "But we'll figure it out."

"Okay. Thank you, Arthur," she says, sniffling.

"You're welcome, Guinevere. Be ready at ten?"

"Yeah."

Arthur stares at his phone. He is about to call Merlin, but decides to call Uther instead.

"You're up early," Uther says by way of greeting.

"Yeah, well, something happened. Do we have any investments with Helios Torrance?" Arthur asks, getting right to the point.

"Well, I was thinking of investing in—"

"Don't. He gets no money from The Pendragon Group," Arthur interrupts.

Uther sighs. "Oh dear…" He sounds like he has been expecting this.

Anger flashes through Arthur. "Why weren't you clearer when you 'warned' me about Helios? Why couldn't you just say he was a fucking philanderer?"

"Language."

Arthur ignores him. "Guinevere is heartbroken and I might have been able to prevent it if you hadn't been so bloody cryptic!"

Uther is quiet for a long moment. "Extend my apologies and sympathy to Miss Leodegrance," he says.

"I will, for all the good it will do. I'm not coming in today, by the way," Arthur replies.

"I thought not."

Arthur sighs, scrubbing his hand over his face. "See you tomorrow," he says, and disconnects the call.

After he finishes talking with Merlin, he returns to the bedroom to find Vivian glowering at him. "What was all that about? I was _almost_ asleep but then you started _yelling_ , and…"

"Guinevere caught Helios cheating on her," Arthur says, sitting heavily on the bed.

"Hmm. Surprised it took her this long to catch him," Vivian says, playing with the edge of the comforter.

Arthur turns towards her, shocked. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"Well for one thing, he tried chatting _me_ up at the New Year's Eve party," she says with a light shrug.

"And you didn't _tell_ me?"

"We just met," she says.

"You knew he was there with one of my best friends. For God's sake, I _introduced_ you to them," he replies, standing up. He starts pacing.

She shrugs again. "I didn't know what kind of relationship they had."

"Vivian. You were admiring the bracelet he bought her for Christmas. The £350 diamond bracelet? Does that seem like the kind of gift you give to someone whom you are only casually seeing?"

She flops her hands down on the bed and huffs at him. "Well, I'm sure _I_ don't know," she pointedly says.

Arthur stops, facing away from her, his fists clenching and unclenching at his sides. He runs one hand through his hair, exhaling as he turns to face her. "Okay, you need to go home. Now. I'm going to take a shower, and when I get out, I want you gone."

"Arthur?" Her face crumples and she pouts up at him.

His jaw clenches once. "I will call you later. But you need to go now."

xXx

"You can say it." Arthur's voice is defeated, but edged with relief. He stares into his mug of cocoa.

"You're sure?" Guinevere asks, sipping her tea across the small table. He nods. "Well, I don't want to make you feel worse, but I really didn't like her," she says.

"I had a feeling," he replies. "And I was half expecting something more along the lines of 'It's about time', honestly."

"I wouldn't say something like that," she replies. "Even though I may have been thinking it," she admits with a small smile.

He weakly returns the gesture and sighs. "I know. I should have broken up with her after the Helios Incident. Then we could have been miserable together."

Arthur had told Guinevere everything Uther and Vivian told him about Helios about a week after their breakup. He didn't want to add fuel to the fire by telling her the same day she kicked him out. She understood and actually was grateful for his consideration.

And once that was out, Arthur also found himself telling her all about Vivian's spoiled brat behavior and how it was beginning to wear on him. "Once I started noticing it, I hoped to be a positive influence on her. But… she actually seems to be getting _worse_."

"She's comfortable with you now. She doesn't have to be on Company Manners anymore," Guinevere had reasoned.

Two weeks after that, in early March, Arthur finally reached the end of his tether in a restaurant where they were having lunch.

That night, Arthur asked Guinevere to meet him at the coffeeshop.

"So what happened?" Guinevere asks.

"We were going to that art opening in the upper town. You know, that Cenred bloke?" Guinevere nods, and he continues. "Anyway, Olaf is a collector and patron, so…" he gestures vaguely.

"Right."

"Well, she was taking her sweet time getting ready, so we didn't have a lot of time for lunch. The opening was at two, and it was nearly one by the time we got out the door. I suggested picking up something quick, and she immediately vetoed it."

"Too good for a food truck taco?" Guinevere guesses, smiling. She loves food truck tacos.

"Well, of course," Arthur answers. "Anyway, we wound up going to The Rising Sun. She only grudgingly agreed."

"There is nothing wrong with The Sun. It's a lovely diner," Guinevere says, shaking her head.

"I know! But she was all, 'Arthur, it's so _common,_ ' and basically tiptoeing through the restaurant like she thought she was going to get _Middle Class_ on her shoes." He takes a drink of his cocoa and continues. "I was afraid she was going to put a napkin down on the seat of her chair."

Guinevere covers her mouth with her hand, trying not to laugh.

"You can laugh. I'm… I'm over it already," he shakes his head. "I think I checked out of this relationship weeks ago, to be perfectly honest."

She puts her hand over his for a second. "I'm sorry."

"Thanks," he answers with a smile and she withdraws her hand. "But you _have_ to hear this."

"Well, yeah."

"She was just… incredibly _rude_ to the waitress. Wouldn't look at her. Would hardly speak to her. Was just really bitchy and demanding the entire time." He shakes his head and then looks at Guinevere. "I was horribly embarrassed."

"I can imagine." Guinevere knows Arthur makes it a point to be kind to people who work in the service industry, and can still see in his eyes how mortified he was at Vivian's behavior.

"The poor waitress – her name is Drea; I've seen her once or twice there, she's fairly new – went out of her way to give us good service. I could tell. I tried to smooth things over, tried to be extra nice to, you know, try to balance things out a bit…" He sighs. "At one point, I quietly remarked to Vivian that she was being impolite to the waitress."

"Oh no, what did she say to that?" Guinevere asks, fearing the worst.

"Oh yes," Arthur says. "She gave me this shocked look and said, 'I am not going to apologize to her. She's _just_ a waitress!'" He pauses and adds, "She wasn't quiet about it."

"Oh. My. God."

"I… I couldn't decide if I wanted to crawl under the table or leave her there. After giving Drea like £100, of course. Then I realized I actually wanted to punch Vivian," Arthur says.

" _I_ want to punch Vivian," Guinevere agrees. "What did you do?"

"Ate as quickly as I could and asked for the bill," he answers. "I wrote 'I'm so sorry, she won't be coming back' on the receipt and left an exorbitant tip."

"So you'd already decided you had to dump her," Guinevere says.

He nods. "Oh yeah. Still had to go to the gallery though, because Father was expecting me. Us." He picks up his mug and swirls his cocoa around. "Father thinks she's wonderful."

"Really?"

"He hasn't seen what's beneath the charming little mask she wears," Arthur explains. "I pulled him aside at the gallery and told him I was ending things with her. He couldn't believe it when I told him about her behavior, even after I cited several other examples. I finally told him he could believe what he likes but he is not to push any other woman in my direction ever again."

"Probably a good move," she assesses. "Uther means well, but…"

"Yeah. He's paving his own personal road to hell with all those good intentions," Arthur chuckles.

Guinevere smiles and asks, "So when did you do it? Break up with her, I mean."

"When I drove her home. I took her to her house. Well, Olaf's. She doesn't have her own place. She was confused because she figured we'd be going back to mine. That's when I told her we were done," he explains, finishing his cocoa. "I'll spare you the string of vitriol she spewed at me."

"I can imagine," she says. "Do you want to split a cookie?"

"Yeah. Chocolate chunk if they have any left," he answers.

"I know," she calls back, already walking to the register. She returns a few minutes later with a very large cookie and a bottle of water. She breaks the cookie roughly in half and gives him the larger side. "What about all her stuff? I know she's taken over half of your bathroom."

"I boxed up everything and had George take it over to Olaf's," Arthur replies. "Is that cowardly?"

She thinks a moment. "Maybe a little, but I totally understand why you did it. You didn't want her coming back to your place and trying to worm her way back in, and you didn't want to bring her things into the lion's den and risk having to possibly deal with Olaf."

"Exactly. But before I did that, I bought some flowers, took them to The Sun, gave them to Drea, and apologized again."

"Oh, that's so sweet of you," she says, smiling.

"I still felt terrible. Thankfully, she was really cool about it – surprisingly so," he says. "I mean, she's _maybe_ 18 years old. No excuse for Vivian's behavior. Honestly."

"Yeah, I know who you're talking about, and she's a good waitress," Guinevere agrees. "She probably has a crush on you now."

Arthur snorts a laugh. "It happens," he says, intentionally looking smug.

She throws a balled-up napkin at him, laughing.

They finish their cookie in companionable silence.

"So, single again, hey?" Arthur asks.

"Yep," Guinevere answers. "I'm good with that for now," she adds, the agreement they made back on their birthday drifting into her mind.

"I think I am, too," he says with a nod, wondering if she even remembers their Marriage Pact. He realizes he feels a little concerned about the possibility of her forgetting it. His fingers twitch and he briefly considers placing his hand over hers and reminding her she'll still have him – in four and a half years – but decides against it. _Don't make things awkward. Of course she remembers. I'm sure she does._

"Arthur?" she asks, noticing he's gone strangely quiet. "Are you sure you're all right?"

"Oh," he replies, snapping himself out of his thoughts. "Yeah. I'm good." He nods. "I feel like a weight has been lifted from my shoulders."

"A tiny blonde weight?" Guinevere asks, smiling.

"Yes," he answers with a laugh.


	3. 26

"Thank you for taking care of that bracelet," Guinevere says after the waiter leaves. "I was getting tired of pushing it around."

"No problem at all," Arthur says. The Pendragon Group participated in a charity auction at the beginning of September, and Arthur asked Guinevere if she would like to donate the bracelet from Helios. She was more than happy to (anonymously) comply, especially when she learned the proceeds were all going to the local Women's Shelter.

"Donating it was a brilliant idea," she replies. "It held bad memories for me, but I hope the new owner enjoys it. And the fact that the money went to a good cause is a very nice bonus."

He nods in agreement. "I wish you could have come," he says. "I was bored for most of it. You and Merlin both bailed on me."

"I was sick," she reminds him. "What was Merlin's excuse?"

"I believe it was something like, 'I don't want to go'," he answers, laughing.

"That does sound like him," she joins his laughter. The waiter returns with their drinks and takes their food order.

"So now, what's this position you're up for called again?" Arthur asks, taking a sip of his beer. This year's birthday dinner is his choice, and he's picked a trendy new gastropub that specializes in craft beers.

"I don't want to tell you," Guinevere answers, trying her beer. "Let me try yours," she says, reaching for his glass.

"Okay," he agrees, reaching across for hers. "Why don't you want to tell me?"

"Mmm. I like this one better," she says, not answering his question.

"Keep it. I like yours better, too," he chuckles. "You're going to have to tell me some time, you know."

"Seed Bank Manager," she finally answers.

Arthur snorts. "You know what that sounds like, right?"

Guinevere rolls her eyes. "Why do you think I didn't want to tell you?" she asks, exasperated.

"So you'd be changing from Propagation Specialist to Seed Bank Manager," he muses, still giggling like he's twelve years old.

"Shut it," she says. She really wants this position, but knows Arthur and Merlin will have a field day with the title.

"If I didn't know any better I'd think you were…"

"Yes, _I know_ , thank you, Arthur," she stops him. "Are you still thinking about grad school?" she asks, trying to change the subject.

"Yeah, but I think I'll wait until next fall, since it's too late now," he says.

"You could start in the spring semester," she suggests.

"I could, but I've got that big convention at the hotel in March that's going to need all my attention," he says.

"Oh yeah, that's right," she nods, remembering. Arthur has been doing very well running the Dragon Hotel. Even Uther has very little to criticize. "Did Uther ever warm to the idea of you going back to school?"

Arthur shrugs. "He says as long as I don't neglect my job, I may do what I like. That's about as warm as he gets."

Guinevere laughs. "Yes, I suppose that's true."

"Are you going to have a party?" he suddenly asks.

"Huh?"

"When you start, you know, coordinating _seeds_ ," he says, grinning. "We'll have to celebrate."

"I don't have the job yet. Annis doesn't even retire until the end of the year, and I'm not the only person being considered for the promotion," she says.

"Wait, wasn't she supposed to have _been_ retired already? Last year you said she was retiring in May!" he asks.

"She decided to finish the calendar year," she answers with a shrug. "And all that's done is allowed Dr. Gaius to take his sweet time in reviewing the applicants."

"You'll get it," he says, sounding quite confident.

"You're biased," she counters.

"Of course I am. But you'll still get it."

"Thank you," she says.

Their food arrives, and conversation tapers off a little while they eat. Arthur tells her about some of the stranger things he's seen and heard about at the hotel. Guinevere tells him about her adventures trying to get some birds out of one of the greenhouses at work.

When they both set their napkins on their plates, Arthur gives her a curious look. "Down to four years, hey?" he asks.

"Four years?" Guinevere asks, momentarily confused. "Oh, right. The Thing."

"Seems like we're no better off than we were this time last year," he says.

"Maybe less so," she chuckles. "I was cheated on and you had to deal with Vivian for almost three months."

"Not to mention several bad dates," he adds.

"Yes, let's _not_ mention those," she laughs.

"So… we're still good then?" he asks, looking rather shy and a little sweet.

"Yeah," she softly answers, unable to keep her eyes on him when he is watching her with that vulnerable expression.

xXx

"Congratulations again, Gwen, but we have to go," Morgana says, wrangling her four-year-old son Graham while Alvarr shifts the already-sleeping Ella in his arms. "Say goodbye to your Auntie Gwen, Gray," she says to the boy.

"Bye, Auntie," Graham says, hugging Guinevere's legs.

She ruffles his black hair and says, "Goodbye, Graham. You be good for your parents now."

He solemnly nods while Morgana tries not to laugh. Alvarr gives Guinevere a kiss on the cheek and the family heads out.

They are the first guests to leave Guinevere's little celebratory party, but as they have children to put to bed, it isn't surprising.

She turns back and heads to the kitchen, where Merlin and Arthur are starting to clean up. "Arthur, you should go home," she says.

"I'm – ah- _choo!_ – fine… ugh," Arthur protests.

"I've told him three times," Merlin says. "Go _home,_ Clotpole. You're sick."

"Come on, Arthur," Guinevere says. She decides to try a different tactic and adds, "I don't want you getting germs all over my kitchen."

"Oh, sorry!" he suddenly says. "I don't want you to be sick for your first day as Seed Bank Manager." He says it without any snickering or innuendo, so Guinevere realizes he _must_ not be feeling well at all.

"Do you want me to call George?" she asks, handing him his coat.

"No, I can drive, thanks," he says. Then he gives her a hug and kisses her cheek. "I know I've been having fun at your expense with this job title, but I'm really happy for you," he says.

She smiles. "Thank you, Arthur. Now _go home_. I'll send over some chicken soup tomorrow," she replies.

After Arthur leaves, her father decides he's ready to go as well. He rode with Elyan and Percival, so all three bid her goodbye with big hugs and more congratulations.

"I'm proud of you, Gwennie," her father says, smiling proudly at her. "Your mother would be proud, too."

"She is," Guinevere agrees, hugging him again. She hugs her brother and Percival, then the three men leave.

"So how much seed coordinating can a person do in February?" Merlin asks when she returns to the kitchen.

"You'd be surprised," she answers, picking up a dish towel. "We are working on cataloging and preserving seeds and specimens both for propagation and emergencies."

"Emergencies?" he asks, clearly puzzled.

"Like nuclear war or a major natural disaster or… I don't know, zombies or something," she answers, playfully snapping him with the towel. "Because when the radiation or whatever clears, people are going to want strawberries."

Merlin laughs. "Right." He looks around the kitchen and sees no more dishes in need of cleaning. "Looks like we're done," he says.

"Guess so," she answers. "Thank you for staying and helping," she adds, reaching out to touch his shoulder.

"Any time, Gwen," he answers. She drops her hand and he catches it in his, holding it gently. They both stare down at their joined hands for a moment. Then he runs his thumb across her knuckles, and when he looks up, the question in his bright blue eyes is very clear.

"Merlin," she whispers, surprised, but… not very.

xXx

Arthur's laughter turns into a coughing fit. Guinevere passes him a tissue and waits for him to finish.

He takes a sip of juice. "You're serious," he says, flopping back on the sofa.

"Yes. He asked me out," she tells him. "And I said yes."

Arthur blinks, trying to process not only this information but how he feels about it. "Huh."

"I was surprised, too," she admits. "But I thought, 'Why not?' He's a dear friend, and friendship often makes the best foundation for… more," she says, suddenly, inexplicably, unable to look at Arthur. _You're one of my best friends, Guinevere, and I'd rather be married to someone with whom I know I'll at least get on…_ Arthur's words from their 25th birthday ring in her brain. She pushes them away.

"True," he says, then reaches for the container of soup she brought. He pries the lid open and smells it. "Oh… is this Jamaican chicken soup?" he asks, eyes lighting up.

"Yes," she answers. He's been a junkie for this soup ever since Guinevere found her grandmother's recipe several years ago.

He takes a sip from the container. "Ohhh… still warm, too," he groans, drinking more.

"Of course. Shall I get you a spoon?" she asks.

"Please," he answers, and she gets up and goes to his kitchen to retrieve the utensil.

"Here we are. Do you need anything else?" she asks, passing it to him.

"A new set of sinuses," he answers. "And a new box of tissues."

"I can help you with the second one," she chuckles, going to his linen closet to retrieve a new box. "This is your last box," she says, opening it and setting it on the table.

"Thanks. I'll send George to pick up some more tomorrow," he replies.

"I should go," Guinevere says, reaching for her coat. "I don't want to catch your cold."

"I don't want you to catch my cold," Arthur echoes. "Guinevere?"

She turns. "Yes?"

"I'm happy for you. I hope things work out with Merlin," he says. _Maybe if I say it out loud, I'll believe it._

She smiles. "Thank you. Me, too. It's… a little strange right now, but I think it'll be good."

xXx

"Guinevere, Merlin, this is Sophia Granville," Arthur introduces the lovely young woman holding his arm. He pulls out her chair and she sits.

"Hello," Sophia says. "I've heard so much about you both."

"Nice to finally meet you," Guinevere says with a smile. Merlin nods and reaches across to shake her hand.

They decided to meet for drinks at a quiet pub they enjoy but don't visit nearly as often as they would like.

Arthur met Sophia at the coffeeshop. Her drink came and it turned out to be wrong. Arthur watched with undisguised interest as she very politely asked them to make her a new one. Since it was such a marked contrast from Vivian, he naturally was instantly smitten.

"I'll get us some drinks. What would you like?" Arthur asks Sophia.

"Cosmopolitan, please," she answers, smiling up at him. He bends and kisses her forehead, then starts to walk away. "Don't you need to ask Guinevere and Merlin?" she calls after him.

"He knows what we want," Merlin answers. He leans back and rests his arm on the back of Guinevere's chair. A moment later, he removes it.

When Arthur returns, they are all laughing. "What did I miss?" he asks, setting their drinks down.

"Arthur, I didn't realize how keen you were on swimming," Sophia says with a smile.

"Huh?" Arthur replies, confused.

"Well, he mainly only fancies going for a swim if it's in a fountain," Guinevere explains, lifting her glass to her lips.

"Of course you told her _that_ story," Arthur sighs, chuckling. "And I wasn't the only one," he adds. "Merlin here dove right in!"

"I took complete responsibility for my actions," Merlin defends himself, hands raised. He drops them, resting one over Guinevere's on the table. "And it's not like we told her about that _other_ time where you—"

" _Thank you_ , Merlin," Arthur cuts him off before he can continue.

"Oh, come now, Arthur, surely Sophia should hear the underpants story," Guinevere chimes in, smiling wickedly.

Sophia's eyes widen. "What story about the underpants?" she asks.

"There is _no_ story about any underpants," Arthur insists. His eyes catch the motion of Merlin's hand moving away from Guinevere's. "Not unless you want _me_ to tell her about—"

"So, Sophia, what is it you do for a living?" Merlin suddenly asks.

xXx

"Would you… would you like to come up?" Guinevere asks Merlin when he takes her home. They had a really good time with Arthur and Sophia. Neither of them drank to excess with Guinevere adhering to her two-drink rule and Merlin simply not being much of a drinker.

"Um, sure," he answers, turning off the car. He follows her up to her second floor flat.

Guinevere is beginning to have doubts that this is going to work out. She already loves Merlin as a friend, and knows he feels the same, but it just seems like something is off.

They've been dating for nearly two months now, and haven't gone past kissing.

So she decided to push things a little. Invite him up and… see what happens.

"Would you like something to drink? Water, tea…?"

"No thanks," he answers, sitting. She sits beside him.

"Merlin…" she says, but before she can get anything else out, he pounces. She squeaks in surprise but quickly recovers, kissing him back, letting him lean over her until she feels the throw pillow at the end of the couch beneath her head.

Then he pulls away just as suddenly. He runs his fingers through his hair and exhales. "Gwen… this…"

"It isn't right," she finishes, sitting up. "Us… in this kind of relationship."

He nods, smiling sadly, but fondly at her. "Yeah," he agrees. "I love hanging out with you, but it just… never stopped feeling weird. I thought it would after a couple weeks, and… I just don't think it has. I'm sorry."

"No, don't be sorry!" Guinevere exclaims. "I feel the same way! That's actually why I invited you up here tonight. To see if we could… you know… give it a go. Physically."

He laughs. "That's why I agreed to come up," he says.

"Oh dear," she joins his laughter. "I do love you, Merlin, you know that, right?"

"Of course. I love you, too, Gwen. But you're more like a sister to me, I think."

She nods.

"Was worth a try though, right?" he asks, standing. "So we're good?" he asks.

"We are," she answers. She means it, and knows he does, too.

"Good. So, then… I'll see you around then, _buddy._ "

Guinevere laughs. "Have a good night, _mate._ " She stands and follows Merlin to the door.

He hugs her. "Yeah. Hugging is good."

"But that's it," she adds, smiling up at him. He snorts a laugh, and heads out.

She locks the door, then collapses on the sofa again. After a minute, she grabs her phone.

_Merlin and I have decided to return to being friends._

Arthur's return text comes surprisingly quickly. _I'm sorry._

_G: We're not. It didn't feel right._

_A: What, exactly, didn't feel right? ;)_

_G: Get your mind out of the gutter._

_G: Felt like I was dating my brother._

_A: Yeah, that won't work. But you guys aren't going to be weird now, are you?_

_G: No, we're good. Honestly._

_A: Good._

_G: Are you ignoring Sophia to text me?_

_A: She's not here. I'm all yours._

_G: Lucky me. Everything okay?_

_A: Yes. We're just not to the staying-over stage yet._

_G: Ah, okay. I'm tired though. Good night!_

_A: Sleep well._

Arthur puts his phone down, puzzling over the feeling of relief that hit when Guinevere told him that she and Merlin were no longer dating. _Was I jealous of Merlin?_

_No. Couldn't be._

He almost believes it. Later that night, as he is trying to sleep, another unwelcome thought materializes in his brain. _If Guinevere and Merlin couldn't transform their friendship into more, how can I expect her and me to possibly do so if we're still single at 30? Of course, I simply said "marriage", not "more."_ His eyes open, and he considers calling off the agreement again.

The problem is though, he doesn't really _want_ to.

Across town, Guinevere is having similar thoughts while she attempts to find sleep. _Arthur and Merlin are my two best friends. I tried dating Merlin, and it was just off. Felt wrong._

_And I'm possibly going to marry Arthur when I'm 30?_

She flips over and sighs heavily. _I'm simply not attracted to Merlin. That's all there is to it._

_But what about Arthur?_

Unbidden, her mind rewinds a few years, and she remembers his lips on hers, his hands on her body.

She bites her lower lip, then attempts to push the memory back into its box, not even sure why she thinks she should. She turns over again, scrunching down further into her blankets. A moment later, laughter starts rising up out of her. _I went farther with Arthur in one drunken evening than I did with Merlin in nearly two months of dating._

xXx

"I screwed up." Arthur's voice is small on the other end of the phone.

"What?" Guinevere asks, still waking up. She glances at the clock and sees that it's nearly 1 a.m.

"Sophia. I was wrong," he says. Then, almost as an afterthought, he adds, "I'm sorry for waking you, but—"

"No, no, it's fine," she reassures him. "I wasn't doing anything," she adds. She waits for him to say something, but he is silent. "So what happened?" she gently asks.

"Remember how I said I was having suspicions? You know, about whether or not Sophia actually was with me for me?" he asks.

"Yes," she answers. _Oh, no… he's never been wrong before._

"Well, I was wrong. So wrong," he admits.

She's never heard him sound so defeated. "I'm sorry, Arthur. If you don't want to tell me all of it right now, you don't have to."

"No, I want to. I need to. I'm such an idiot," he laments.

"You're not, I promise."

"Thanks. We went to dinner tonight… finally gave in and went to The Lake. She's been asking to go," he starts.

"I remember. It was one of the warning signs you mentioned, along with her suggesting you hire a decorator," she says.

"And the extravagant activities," he adds. "Tonight, she mentioned something about taking a long weekend to go wine-tasting. In France."

"Wow," Guinevere says. She would have bet _her_ money that Sophia was after _his._ Of course, she only had Arthur's side of things, and apparently they both read the signs incorrectly.

"After dinner, I sort of confronted her about it," he says, his voice breaking slightly.

 _How do you 'sort of' confront someone?_ she wonders, but keeps that thought to herself. "How did you bring it up?"

"The usual way. You know I'm pretty up-front with this matter," he answers.

"Yes. So you just asked her then," she says.

"Yep. Needless to say, it didn't go well. I could not have been more wrong," he says, sighing. "Have you ever heard the name Reginald Aulfric?"

"Aulfric… it's familiar, but… _should_ I know it?" she asks.

"Possibly not. You're not much into cars. He owns Druid Motorworks in Mercia," Arthur explains.

"Druid? The luxury car?" Guinevere asks.

"Her grandfather founded the company. She is probably as rich as I am, and I'm a bloody fool," he replies.

"Isn't her last name Granville?" she asks.

"It's her mother's maiden name. She uses it so people won't take advantage of her," he explains. "Apparently, she's smarter than I am."

"You could do that if you didn't live in Camelot," Guinevere points out. "Plus, since she's a woman, it's probably more for safety than anything else."

"Yeah, she mentioned that. Eventually. It was in there amongst all the yelling," Arthur says.

"She yelled? I can't imagine her yelling."

"Well, she's quite good at it. Told me she didn't need my bloody money, and even threw a wad of cash at me. Pointed out that she never _asked_ me for anything. Never _expected_ anything of me. Yes, she made suggestions and recommendations, but I was always free to decline."

"Okay, she does have a bit of a point, but… but did she truly think you _wouldn't_ pay for dates and _not_ entertain her suggestions? That's just what you do when you're with someone," Guinevere says, her mind buzzing with all this information. She's suddenly glad she doesn't come from Old Money. Wealth is complicated.

"Thank you," he exhales. "Anyway, I apologized… over and over… but the damage had already been done. She said she couldn't be with someone who didn't trust her."

"I'm sorry, Arthur."

"All those extravagant things she wanted to do… her expensive taste… that's just what she knows. It's how she's always lived her life. God, I'm an idiot," he groans.

"Arthur, stop beating yourself up. You are not an idiot," she says. Then something occurs to her. "How long were you dating her?"

"Just over a month."

"And she never talked about her family?" she asks.

"She said they were from Mercia and that… her father works with cars," he answers.

She can hear the lightbulb going on over his head, and presses on. "She never saw fit to tell you who her father really is? Told you she uses her mother's surname to protect herself? Especially when she already knew who you are?"

"Shit…"

"And she accused _you_ of not trusting _her_?" Guinevere lays the trump card on the table.

"Bloody…"

"Yeah. So don't take all the blame on your shoulders, Arthur," she says, happy that she was actually awake enough to connect those mental dots. " _She_ didn't trust _you_ enough to be honest about who she really is."

"I wonder how long she would have waited to tell me?" he muses.

"Who knows?"

They are silent for a few long moments.

"It still hurts though," he finally says.

"I know," she replies.

"Thank you, Guinevere," he repeats. "And I'm still sorry I woke you."

"I'm not. I'm glad you called," she replies. "Do you think you'll be able to sleep?"

"I think I'll be able to now," he answers.

"I'll bring you some breakfast tomorrow, okay? I'll get some takeaway from The Sun."

"Not before 10 a.m. I'm exhausted," he says.

"Okay. Good thing it's the weekend then," she replies. "Good night, Arthur."

"Good night, Guinevere."

They disconnect the call and Guinevere lies awake a few more minutes, thinking about Arthur and how he really has a more difficult time out in the dating world than she does. Not that it has exactly been a picnic for her, either. _This is more difficult than I thought it would be. I'm almost ready to just throw in the towel and cash in this pact a few years early._


	4. 27

"I have an idea," Guinevere says as soon as they sit down.

"Whoa, déjà vu," Arthur answers with a grin, and she laughs. "What's your idea?"

The waitress comes and takes their drink order, and when she vanishes again, Arthur expectantly looks at Guinevere.

"We set each other up," she declares. He opens his mouth to say something, but she holds up her hand. "No, no, hear me out. Since we are apparently crap at finding our own dates—"

"Gwen…"

"I thought we might as well see how we do at picking dates for each other—"

"Guinevere," he tries again.

"Because maybe a different persp—"

"Guine _vere_ ," Arthur presses, and she finally closes her mouth. "I was going to agree with you. I think it's a brilliant idea."

"Oh," she quietly answers. The waitress brings their drinks and takes their order. This year is Chinese food, Guinevere's choice.

"You have a really good point about different perspectives," Arthur continues. He leans forward, resting his hands on the table. "And I'm actually rather curious about what kind of woman you think I should date."

She laughs and says, "I'm wondering the same thing. And a little… nervous."

"Why?" he asks, tilting his head to the side. "I wouldn't set you up with some total weed or—"

"No, that's not what I meant at all!" she exclaims. "I know you'll make every effort to find someone you think I'll like. It's just… giving up control…"

"Guinevere, this is _your_ idea," he reminds her, chuckling.

"I know," she answers, shaking her head at herself. "I suppose it's no crazier than agreeing to get married to each other if this whole… experiment doesn't work out, right?"

He quirks an eyebrow upward. "Actually it's slightly _less_ crazy," he assesses.

"True," she says, regarding him across the table. _It shouldn't be_ too _difficult to find someone suitable for him._ She starts thinking of all the single women she knows. None of them seem right. _Someone will present herself._

"Guinevere?" Arthur asks, seeing her distant look.

"Hmm? Oh, sorry. Miles away. How is graduate school going?" she asks.

"Well, it only just started, but so far, so good…"

xXx

"Gwen, Freya, you remember Mithian Rodor, yes?" Dr. Gaius asks as he walks into the Seed Bank, accompanied by a young woman.

"Yes, hi Mithian, nice to see you again," Guinevere answers. Freya greets her as well, but then excuses herself to return to her task. "She doesn't want to forget where she is," Guinevere explains. "She's counting."

"Ah, very good," Dr. Gaius replies.

"It's lovely to see you, Gwen," Mithian says, and the two women shake hands.

"Are you thinking of hosting another event here?" Guinevere asks Dr. Gaius. Mithian has done some freelance work with the Gardens organizing special events in the past, and Guinevere always found her to be very intelligent and charming.

"I am thinking of hosting _many_ events here," he answers. "That is why Mithian will now be working for the Botanic Gardens in a permanent capacity as our new Events Coordinator."

"Oh, how wonderful!" Guinevere exclaims. She knows this is something Dr. Gaius has been working on for a while. They have occasional weddings and corporate parties here, but he's been looking to open up the Gardens for more public use. "And just in time for Christmas, too," she adds with a smile.

The two women chat for a bit, and Gaius wanders around a little, checking things out. He returns a few minutes later and says, "We still have a few more people to meet."

"Of course," Guinevere says.

"Everything looks very good, Gwen," he praises, granting her a nod and smile. "I always knew you were the right person for this position."

She beams at his praise. "Thank you, Dr. Gaius," she replies. "See you later, Mithian."

"We'll have to have lunch this week," Mithian replies with a wave of her left hand. Her left hand with an empty ring finger.

Guinevere nods, the wheels already turning in her head as she walks to her desk, where her mobile is sitting. _Have lunch with me today._

She walks away, but her phone buzzes almost immediately so she returns to read Arthur's reply.

_A: Are you asking me or telling me?_

_G: Telling. I mean, unless you have something important going on._

_A: No. What's up?_

_G: I will tell you at lunch. :)_

_A: Tease. Come to the hotel. I'll buy you lunch at the restaurant._

_G: "You" will buy me lunch. Right._

_A: All right, PG will buy us both lunch…_

Laughing, Guinevere sets her phone down, plans still forming in her brain.

xXx

Guinevere walks through the lobby of the Dragon Hotel, heading past the desk towards Arthur's office. Most of the staff recognize her and no one stops her when she walks right up to his slightly open door and knocks lightly. "Hey," she says.

"Right on time," Arthur smiles and stands. "Hungry?"

"Yes," she answers.

The hostess seats them and when the waiter comes, they order right away.

"So what's going on?" Arthur asks.

"I think you should convince your father to have the New Year's Eve Gala at the Gardens this year," Guinevere says.

"I assume you mean in one of the greenhouses," he answers.

"Obviously."

He folds his hands on the table in front of him. "Why?"

"So you can meet the new Events Coordinator Dr. Gaius just brought on," she says, a slow grin spreading across her face. "She's lovely."

"Aha, so that's your game," he says, understanding. "When was she hired?"

"Today is her first day, but she has worked with us in the past, so it's not like this is someone I have only just met. Her name is Mithian Rodor. She's a little taller than me, brown hair, brown eyes, very pretty. And every time I've spoken with her she has been smart, witty, and kind," she explains. "If I ever get the opportunity to take a picture of her, I will. But she's gorgeous, trust me."

"Um… wow… okay, that's pretty overwhelming," he says, taking in all of this information. "So your plan is for me to convince Father to have the Gala at the Gardens and then volunteer to meet with this Mithian person to 'discuss details', and then what?"

"You just be your charming self and see if you can get her phone number," Guinevere answers. "Easy."

"You can't just arrange to have us meet?" Arthur asks.

"I didn't want to be so obvious," she replies. "Plus, I know she's not married, but I haven't yet discerned whether or not she's actually available," she sheepishly adds.

"Oh, well, that's not important at all," he sarcastically replies.

"That's what I'll be trying to find out while you work on your father," she states.

The waiter comes with their food. "That was fast, thank you, Peter," Arthur says.

"Sure thing, boss," the waiter replies.

"So?" Guinevere asks.

Arthur finishes chewing his food, swallows, and finally answers, "Yeah, all right. _If_ she's single. If she's not… well, I still think having the Gala there is a cool idea, so we'll still do that, but I'm not going to try chatting her up."

"Well, of course not," she replies, grinning.

xXx

The Gala was a huge success. Everyone loved the novelty of having it at the Botanic Gardens, especially being able to watch the snow gently falling outside while they were all warm and cozy amongst the tropical plants inside.

Arthur, ever mindful of professionalism, did not actually ask Mithian out until the Gala was over. He called her the next day and was only a little surprised to learn that she had been contemplating asking _him_ out, but, similarly, had been waiting until their contract was over.

Then Arthur called Guinevere and told her the good news. She was very happy for him. They had been one another's "consolation dates" (for the third time) at the Gala this year, and their New Year's kisses were planted on one another's cheeks.

The staff of the Botanic Gardens were all invited to the Gala this year as well. Merlin took one look at Freya, was instantly smitten, and the two have been nearly inseparable since.

Guinevere has never pressed Arthur about holding up his end of their deal, but he has been ever aware that he still needs to find someone suitable.

Wherein lies the problem. No one he knows is good enough for her.

His mind wanders as he looks around the classroom, only half listening to the lecture. The professor is telling the class about a "hypothetical" situation with which Arthur is already intimately familiar, being that the situation being described is something that actually happened at the Pendragon Group two years ago. Arthur can tell the professor knows he recognizes the scenario because he is strenuously avoiding looking at him. So Arthur stares at his fellow classmates, once again finding no viable options for Guinevere. _Maybe Mithian knows someone_ , he ponders, but decides that would go against the spirit of their agreement. _He_ has to find someone.

The class ends and he exits quickly before the professor tries hailing him to offer awkward explanations or apologies. He really doesn't care that his father's empire was used to illustrate a point, and doesn't really fancy talking to this particular professor about it.

He walks to his car, glancing at his watch, deciding he has time to grab a quick bite of lunch before heading to the hotel. He pulls out his mobile to find out where Tico's Taco Truck is parked, when he hears a voice he hasn't heard in years.

"Arthur?"

Arthur stops, head turning. _I know that voice. It couldn't be…_

"Arthur! It _is_ you!"

"Leon?" Arthur exclaims, seeing his old friend from back in Public School quickly walking towards him.

The two old friends hug, trading friendly greetings.

"What are you doing here?" Leon asks.

"Graduate studies," Arthur answers, indicating his backpack. "You?"

"I work here," Leon explains. "I teach physical education and am the assistant coach for the football team."

"Brilliant, mate," Arthur replies, smiling. "When did you come back to Camelot?"

"Just this fall," Leon says. "I was in Essetir, but I really wanted to come back home, you know?"

"Missed your mum," Arthur nods.

Leon smiles shyly and looks down, reddish-brown curls flopping into his face. "Yeah."

"Hey, I was just going to grab some lunch. Are you free? We can get out of the cold and catch up," Arthur suggests.

"Yeah, I don't have class until two," Leon answers.

"I don't have _quite_ that much time, but I've got enough," Arthur says.

"Come on then," Leon replies, leading the way to the cafeteria.

As they walk and talk, wheels begin to spin in Arthur's mind.

xXx

"Hey, Leon, glad you could make it," Arthur greets his old friend, letting him into his house.

"Am I late?" Leon asks, handing his coat to Arthur.

"Nope. Just waiting on my mate Merlin," Arthur says. "Everyone else is here, but they were all early."

Arthur decided to "invite some friends over to watch the rugby" as a way of introducing Leon to Guinevere. He told Guinevere about Leon after they had lunch (and Arthur made certain his friend was still single and unattached), and she was intrigued. He tried to ask her for advice on how to get them to meet, but she refused, pointing out that she didn't enlist his help to plan his meeting with Mithian.

The two men walk into Arthur's media room. "Leon, you remember Morgana, of course," he introduces. "This is her husband, Alvarr. Over there are Percival and Elyan, and this is Guinevere. Everyone, this is Leon, an old mate of mine from way back. I ran into him at University last week."

They all say hello. It turns out Leon and Percival already know one another, as Percival is from Essetir and used to be one of the trainers for their university football team.

Guinevere smiles in greeting, then gives Arthur a look that clearly says "Well done". Pleased, Arthur grins, then notices there is an empty seat beside her. Before he can figure out how to guide Leon to that spot, the doorbell rights. "Ah. That'll be Merlin," he says.

"I think he's bringing Freya," Guinevere calls.

"Excellent," Arthur returns over his shoulder.

"Have a seat, Leon," Morgana invites, pointedly gesturing in Guinevere's general direction. Guinevere looks over at her, and she winks.

She wonders if Arthur told his sister, but Morgana does like to play matchmaker, so anything is possible.

Arthur returns with Merlin and Freya, and more introductions are made. He has to bite back his grin when he sees Leon has, indeed, sat next to Guinevere.

"Isn't Mithian coming?" Merlin asks, plopping down on the sofa with Freya.

"She couldn't make it," Arthur explains. "It's her gran's 80th birthday today, and they were having a small get-together."

"You weren't invited?" Morgana asks.

"Her gran's in a care facility, so there's not a lot of room," he answers. "Plus, I haven't even met her parents yet."

Morgana nods, apparently mollified. Arthur makes sure everyone has refreshments and snacks, then emphasizes that everyone is to make themselves at home before they settle in to watch the game.

Arthur pays more attention to Leon and Guinevere than to the game. He's happy Leon seems comfortable, figuring it helps that he already knows Morgana and Percival. But he does seem interested in Guinevere, and talks to her a fair amount. _He can be a bit shy with the ladies, so I hope that doesn't pose a problem._

While Arthur is mentally reviewing possible scenarios to try and give Leon a little shove, opportunity presents itself.

Guinevere stands up. "I'm getting a refill. Anyone need anything?" she asks. Elyan, Percival, Merlin, Freya, Morgana, and Alvarr all say "Yes", and Guinevere laughingly replies, "How many hands do you lot think I have?"

"I'll help you," Leon volunteers, standing. He glances back at Arthur as he follows Guinevere to the kitchen, and Arthur gives him an encouraging thumbs-up. Leon blushes, and Arthur knows his setup attempt is about to be successful.

xXx

"Really?" Arthur says, spotting Guinevere and Mithian just inside the doors of the Botanic Gardens' main building. Leon was supposed to be there as well. Arthur steps over and kisses Mithian hello.

"What?" Mithian asks, looking between Arthur and Guinevere.

"Leon sprained his ankle," Guinevere explains. "Just today. He's on pain meds and is on orders to elevate and ice tonight."

"Thus thwarting our attempt to double. Again," Arthur says, shaking his head.

Last time, Arthur and Mithian had to cancel because Arthur was stuck dealing with an emergency at the hotel. The time before that was thwarted by a late winter blizzard/ice storm, so no one could go anywhere.

"He insisted I still come," Guinevere continues, explaining why she's not over taking care of Leon.

"Well, it is the first concert in this new series," Arthur allows, smiling fondly at Mithian. "I still say it's a brilliant idea. And I love the name."

"Thank you, Arthur," Mithian says. "'Music Under Glass' was Gwen's suggestion actually, so I can't take credit for that part."

"I still think you could have it more than once a month," Arthur says, looking around. There aren't a lot of people in attendance yet, but it is still quite early.

"We need to walk before we can run, darling," Mithian replies. "Plus, once a month is still a bit of a scheduling nightmare, not to mention trying to draw performers."

"I'm sure it will be a huge success," Arthur reassures her. "Where are our seats?"

xXx

When the four of them finally manage to meet in the same time at the same place, Arthur and Guinevere can hardly believe it.

They wind up meeting for dinner at The Rising Sun, deciding to do something simple. The weather has finally turned pleasant, and they discussed the possibility of walking the three blocks to an ice cream parlor afterwards.

"You don't get dessert though," Leon teases Guinevere after they order.

"And why not?" she asks, smiling up at him.

"Because you ordered breakfast, obviously," Mithian answers, joining in.

"Yes! Thank you!" Leon triumphantly declares. "You don't have dessert after breakfast."

"Sometimes she'll get the soup before her dinner breakfast," Arthur volunteers, deciding to take Guinevere's side.

"What?" Leon asks.

"I like soup," Guinevere simply says. "If they have a type I like, I'll get a cup. Honestly, I don't see what all the fuss is over my getting breakfast for dinner."

"She does it all the time," Arthur adds.

"I don't even like breakfast for breakfast, honestly," Leon says, taking a drink. "Most of the time I'll make a sandwich or something."

"That actually sounds good… I'm going to have to try that," Mithian agrees, nodding thoughtfully.

"Oh, so you can tease me for wanting breakfast for dinner, but it's perfectly acceptable for you to have lunch for breakfast?" Guinevere asks, biting back her grin with only moderate success.

Leon leans over and kisses her cheek. "Yes," he says, and they all laugh.

As the dinner progresses, Arthur and Guinevere can't help noticing that their dislike of breakfast isn't the only thing Mithian and Leon have in common. Mithian used to play football at university. Leon minored in Public Relations. They follow a similar exercise regimen. When they begin bonding over some American television show it turns out they both watch, he glances over at Guinevere and can tell she has noticed it, too.

Suddenly, dinner seems very long.

But Leon wraps his arm around Guinevere when they walk to the ice cream parlor and Mithian feeds Arthur a taste of her ice cream, and things start to feel okay again.

Later, when Mithian kisses Arthur and pulls him to the bedroom, he decides he was worrying over nothing.

And across town, Leon is similarly erasing any troubled thoughts Guinevere may have had.

xXx

"I'm sorry, Arthur," Guinevere says. It's two weeks after the strange double date at the Sun, and Mithian has just broken up with Arthur.

He came over to Guinevere's flat, looking pathetic, and plopped himself on her couch. She made him some tea.

"Can you talk about it?" she asks, handing him a mug.

"She said she thinks I'm a great guy, and any woman would be lucky to have me," he says into his tea.

"Any woman apart from her, apparently," Guinevere says with a frown.

"That's pretty much the next thing _she_ said," Arthur explains. He sips his tea, noting how Guinevere has prepared it just the way he likes it. "She said, 'I just don't think I'm that woman. Not anymore.'"

"Cryptic much?" she asks, still puzzled. She thought Arthur and Mithian were happy. They were certainly well-suited, or so she thought. And it turned out that she comes from a wealthy family, so she even lived up to Uther's rather shallow standards.

"I know… I'm beginning to wonder if there is someone else. Like, I don't think she's cheating, but maybe she has someone in mind?" he says, turning it into a question.

"Who knows?" she answers. "I guess it's possible." Leon's name suddenly comes to mind, but she pushes it away. Then she wonders how he'll react when she tells him the news when he calls her later, after his evening class is done.

Arthur sighs, setting his mug down. "Well, for whatever reason, she decided she wasn't happy, and I'm not going to stand in her way of being happy."

"Have you eaten?" Guinevere asks, touching his shoulder.

"No," he replies.

"Do you want to eat?"

"No."

"Do you mind if I do?"

"No. As long as you don't mind if I hold your couch down for a while."

"Of course not," she answers. "You want to stay over?"

He thinks a minute. It wouldn't be the first time he's crashed on her couch. "Yeah, all right. I do have to work tomorrow though, ugh."

"Phone in," she suggests, calling from the kitchen, where she is making herself a small dinner. _Ugh, I'll have to see Mithian at work tomorrow, too._

"Can't. Too much going on. Renovations are starting, and I need to be there."

"It'll give your mind something to do," she suggests.

"Yeah. I suppose."

xXx

"What?" Arthur asks, four days later. It's Guinevere's turn to call him and wake him up very late at night.

"Leon… he…" Guinevere tries again, only this time the words don't come out.

"No, I heard you. I just can't believe it."

"He said I was… amazing… or something… but… he just didn't think it was going to work out…" She sniffles again.

Arthur hates listening to her cry over the phone. "I'm coming over," he says, getting out of bed.

"You don't have to," she says. "The phone is fine." She listens a moment. "You're already out of bed, aren't you?"

"Hang on," he says, dropping his phone on the bed so he can pull a t-shirt on. "Yes. I have just put a shirt on. I'll be there in ten minutes."

"It takes fifteen minutes to get here," she says, huffing an inexplicable laugh through her tears.

"Guinevere, it's 11:51 p.m. There is no traffic," he insists.

She can hear him getting into his car. "Drive safely," she warns.

Twelve minutes later, he is just about to knock on her door when it opens.

She immediately leans into him and he wraps his arms around her in a comforting hug. "I thought things were going really well," she says, her voice muffled against his shoulder. "To the point where I was even thinking he might be… you know…"

"I know," he soothes. "Come on." He is about to lead her to her couch, but sees soft light coming from her room, so he redirects, heading there. "Do you need anything? Tea? Chocolate? Tissue?"

"Tissue," she says, absently patting the wet patch she's left on his t-shirt. "Sorry."

"I am the Human Tissue," Arthur jokes. When she gives him a weak smile, he gives her elbow a reassuring squeeze, then reaches down to the nightstand and hands her a tissue from the box there.

"Thank you," Guinevere replies, wiping her eyes. She sits on the bed.

He looks around a moment, then sits beside her, as she has no chairs in her room. The TV is on, the volume quiet, and it's bathing the room in a soft blue glow.

She leans her head against his shoulder. "I don't want to talk about it right now," she says. "I'm sorry. You came all this way and now I don't want to talk."

"We don't have to talk," he says. "Do you want me to go?"

"No," she answers. "Just… be here."

"I can do that," he says. "Why don't you lie down? I'm going to run to the loo, but I'll be right back."

"Okay," she says, scooting further onto the bed.

Arthur kicks his flip flops off, then goes to the bathroom. When he returns, she is blankly staring at an infomercial on the television. He sits beside her on the bed, on top of the covers. He tries to lean back, but the headboard isn't solid enough to make a decent backrest.

"You can lie down," she says. "Not the first time we've been in bed together," she says, weakly chuckling. She's not referring to their 21st birthday. There have been several occasions where they've stayed up too late and wound up just drifting off to sleep, mostly at University. Once she woke up sandwiched between Arthur and Merlin, overheated and stiff, with Merlin drooling on her shoulder.

"True," he answers, even scooting his feet beneath the covers as he slides down. He isn't completely surprised when she moves over and rests her head on his shoulder. "At least it's the weekend this time," he absently says.

"How are the renovations going?" she asks.

He looks down at her. "You don't really care about that right now," he says.

"Not really," she admits. A moment later she adds, "You can tell me about it in a few days."

"You can come see how things are going anytime, Guinevere," he answers. "In a few days."

She nods, and Arthur can tell she's getting sleepy. _That's good. She needs to sleep._

Her breathing grows slow and even, and, in her sleep, she cuddles closer to him.

 _This is… kind of nice._ Arthur decides the late hour is the reason for his sudden tender feelings about his dear, sad friend snuggled to his side. _She probably thinks I'm Leon anyway,_ he decides, then grabs the remote, turns off the TV, and closes his eyes.

_Even so, I don't think I would mind a lifetime of this._


	5. 28

"So I have good news and bad news," Arthur says as soon as they are seated. "Which would you like first?" He decided they should dine in style for their 28th birthday, and made reservations at The Lake. He called a month ahead of time, and even then he had to drop his name in order to secure a reservation.

"Mmm, bad news please," Guinevere decides, looking around. She hasn't been here since she was with Helios, and they've redecorated a bit.

"Really?"

She nods. "I prefer bad news first, because then the good news should cheer me up," she explains.

"Makes sense," he replies. Before he can get to his news, the waiter arrives to briefly fawn over them.

"All right. So, out with it," Guinevere asks after the waiter leaves.

"Leon asked me if I would mind him asking Mithian out," Arthur declares, getting straight to the point.

She blinks a few times, processing this information. "What did you say?" she asks.

"I told him I didn't care," he answers. He still considers Leon a friend, despite things not working out with Guinevere. Leon wisely kept his distance, not seeking out contact or communication with Arthur until the fall term started again and they kept crossing paths.

Arthur mentioned to Guinevere that he keeps running into Leon, but hasn't spoken to him. She told him their friendship goes back too far for him to turn his back on him simply because her relationship with him didn't work out, and added that she really didn't mind if he remained friends with Leon. After that, Arthur finally made the first move by simply saying "Hello" one day. Leon was understandably wary, and their friendship is still a bit tenuous, but they are starting to feel less awkward about things.

Until Leon asked about Mithian.

Guinevere doesn't say anything for a while. She is silent for so long it begins to concern Arthur. Just when he is about to ask her if she all right, she speaks. "I'm a little surprised he waited this long."

"What?" Arthur asks.

The waiter returns with their drinks, but they haven't looked at the menu yet, so they ask him to return later.

"Well, think about it. We had that admittedly weird double date. They got along a little _too_ well. I know you noticed. I can read your face like your forehead has an LED sign on it," she says, and he laughs a little. "Then she breaks up with you two weeks later. You even said you were wondering if she already had her sights set on someone." She looks over the menu, remembering why they're actually there.

"Yeah," Arthur recalls, nodding. "Leon. Then _he_ breaks up with _you_ four days after that. 'Coincidentally'." He makes air quotes with his fingers along with the word.

"God, we sound like conspiracy theorists," Guinevere suddenly laughs. "What if they're both space aliens?"

He joins her laughter. "So you're all right with this development?" he asks.

"I guess I have to be," she answers. "I mean, it's been months, so…" she shrugs, palms up. "And it's not like you could have said, 'Let me consult with Guinevere and we'll let you know,' right?"

"If he had texted me the question, I would have talked to you before replying. But he asked in person," Arthur responds. "I guess it _was_ good manners of him to ask… and it couldn't have been easy, so…"

"Did he ask you for her number, too?" she asks, genuinely curious.

"No, he didn't," he answers. "Do you think they've already got each other's numbers?"

Guinevere had been wondering the same thing, even to the point of trying to remember if Mithian and Leon had ever been left alone on their double date. _No. They're both good people; they wouldn't have done so then… would they?_ Then, she remembers. "Oh! Mithian got flowers yesterday. Like, flowers that had been delivered. Pink roses, and a card that made her smile and blush. They came at lunch and we were in the lounge at the same time," she exclaims. Pretty much the only time Guinevere sees Mithian is at lunch, and that's only sometimes. The two women are cordial, and if things had worked out between her and Arthur, likely would have been friends. Now they are simply casually acquainted coworkers and that's likely all they will ever be.

"Hmm," Arthur replies.

"Might explain why she looked uncomfortable when she saw me looking – everyone was looking though – and then quickly left," she muses.

Arthur laughs a little, "Yeah, pretty awkward." Now it is his turn to lightly shrug. "Thing is, when I told him I didn't care, it was the truth. I don't."

The waiter comes back, and they place their orders.

"Yeah, I guess I don't either," she answers. He looks at her. "Really. I'm good." She takes a drink and then asks, "So what's your good news?"

"I was asked out on a date," he smugly declares.

"Really?" she asks, smiling. "By, like, a woman?" It's a fairly reasonable question, since Arthur has been asked out by men a few times.

He laughs. "Yes, a woman. She's in one of my classes," he explains. "I saw her last year, but never spoke to her. She looked at me a lot though."

Guinevere laughs. "Of course she did," she says.

"No, I'm serious, she did!" Arthur insists. "This year, she happened to sit near me in one of our classes, and we got to talking afterwards, and, well, she asked me out."

"Wow, term has only just started," she says. "She probably has had her eye on you since last year, if what you're saying is true."

He half shrugs. "Possibly. Anyway, we're going out this weekend."

"Doing?"

He chuckles. "I don't know yet… she said she would make the plans."

"Oh, interesting," she replies, smiling.

xXx

The food is as good as always, and just after the busboy clears Arthur and Guinevere's plates, a handsome man in a chef's uniform approaches their table.

"Excuse me," he says, his voice tinged with a slight French accent, "I'm Lancelot du Lac, chef and owner of this establishment. May I join you a moment?"

"Of course," Arthur replies, completely unruffled, accustomed to this sort of thing.

Guinevere smiles in response. Lancelot returns her smile, his gaze lingering on her as he sits.

"Arthur Pendragon," Arthur introduces himself, offering his hand.

"Yes," Lancelot responds, because that is the reason he came over.

"And this is my very good friend Guinevere Leodegrance," he introduces her.

"Gwen," she says, extending her hand.

Lancelot clasps her hand and says, "Friend?" glancing at Arthur.

A knowing smile crosses Arthur's face and says, "Yes. Just friends."

"In that case," Lancelot lifts their still-joined hands and softly kisses her knuckles. " _Enchanté_ ," he smoothly greets.

Guinevere smiles, her cheeks coloring prettily. "Pleased to meet you."

He finally releases her hand and asks, "To what does The Lake owe the honor of your patronage tonight?"

"We always have dinner together on our birthday," Arthur answers. "This year was my choice, and I chose to come here."

"It's today? Both of you?" Lancelot asks.

"Yes," Guinevere answers. "It's the first time we've been here to celebrate, but—"

"Not the first time you've dined here," Lancelot finishes, looking at Guinevere. "I remember you. You used to come in with Helios Torrance."

She blinks. "That was three years ago. You have an excellent memory."

"Only for beautiful a woman such as yourself," he replies.

 _This bloke has got his chat-up lines perfected,_ Arthur thinks, rather enjoying the show. _This could work out well for her._

"Forgive me, Mr. Pendragon, I did not mean to neglect you," Lancelot says, turning slightly so he can see both of them. "I do remember you visiting my restaurant in the past as well, though you are not a beautiful woman," he jokes.

Arthur laughs. "It's always nice to be remembered," he says.

They chat for a bit. Arthur and Lancelot trade business cards, and then Lancelot tells them he has to get back to the kitchen. "I'll send out a little dessert for the both of you. _Avec mes compliments_ , for your birthdays," he says. He shakes Arthur's hand again, and then gently clasps Guinevere's between both of his. She wonders if he's going to kiss it again. He doesn't, but his fingers do brush against the inside of her wrist. It's very deliberate, very sensual, and Guinevere blushes in response. "Gwen," Lancelot says, then heads back to the kitchen.

"I think someone fancies you," Arthur says once Lancelot is out of sight.

She looks at him, cheeks still slightly flushed. "Oh really? I hadn't noticed," she replies, her voice colored with playful sarcasm.

The waiter brings their desserts. Arthur's is a crème brûlée heaped with berries. There is a tuile cookie in the shape of an artfully-bent autumn leaf and a dollop of cream on the side. Guinevere's is a flourless chocolate cake drizzled with strawberry coulis and has two of the hugest chocolate covered strawberries she's ever seen beside it, nestled in a cloud of cream.

Arthur looks back and forth between them. He had expected them to both receive the same dessert. Then, the significance behind Guinevere's dessert hits him, and he begins to laugh.

"What?" she asks, sinking her fork into the cake.

"That's not overt at all, is it?" he asks, pointing at her plate with his spoon.

She snorts a laugh. "Well, in case the dessert wasn't obvious enough, there's also this," she says, producing another one of Lancelot's business cards that was tucked beneath the plate. She flips it over to show him the back. Lancelot has written his personal number and a note stating he would love to see her again.

"Smooth," Arthur chuckles and takes a bite of his dessert. "Bloody hell, you have to try this," he says, pushing his plate over. Guinevere is blissfully enjoying her own mouthful of dessert and reciprocates, scooting her plate across.

"I want that back," she sternly says after she swallows.

xXx

When Arthur drops her off later, he realizes they didn't discuss their pact as they normally do. He's not sure how he feels about that, but decides to chalk it up to the fact that they both already have prospects. He is curious about what his date this weekend will yield, but can't help feeling a little disappointed the agreement Guinevere and he made never entered their conversation. He has found he likes talking about it with her, and now they likely won't get to do so for another year.

Guinevere closes the door to her flat and looks at Lancelot's business card. _Maybe he will be the one and I won't have to…_ She stops her thought, realizing the words "have to" no longer sound right in reference to the possibility of marrying Arthur. _It didn't come up tonight,_ she notes, pulling the uncomfortable heels off and sitting on her bed. She frowns slightly, missing the one opportunity she gets all year to talk about the unusual arrangement they've made. She looks at the card again, and her attention shifts back to Lancelot's warm brown eyes and sexy hint of accent. She smiles, decides to let standard conventions hang, and call him tomorrow.

xXx

"Maybe you're not giving her a chance," Guinevere counsels. Arthur asked her to meet him for lunch at a place near the Botanic Gardens. He was very specific about the location, which made her curious until she learned he was thinking of ending things with Nimueh and didn't want her "surprising" them by showing up unannounced.

"A month is plenty of time, I think. How long were you with Merlin before you realized you just weren't into each other _that way_?" he asks.

"We broke up after about a month and a half. Maybe a little longer. But I think it was a few weeks overdue," she admits. "Speaking of, didn't you put her down for your 'Plus One' for their wedding?" Merlin and Freya are getting married next month. Arthur is the best man, and Guinevere is one of the bridesmaids.

"Shit, I did," Arthur replies, running his hand through his hair. "That was premature of me, wasn't it?"

"Maybe a little. Especially if you weren't sure," Guinevere answers.

"I can't wait that long."

"Is it that bad?"

"No, it's not that. I like her fine, it's just… if I'm not really into her, you know, romantically, it's not fair to string her along for another month just because of a Plus One situation," he says. "I'll pay Merlin for her dinner."

"Well, I hope it's as simple as that," she comments. "She seemed pretty smitten with you when I met her." _"Smitten" is putting it mildly. The woman was bloody well fawning over him._

"I know, that's also why I feel so bad about it," he says. "It's a little unsettling sometimes."

"Oh, dear. Does she have a notebook with pages and pages of 'Mrs. Nimueh Pendragon' and the like scrawled all over it?" she asks.

"God, I hope not!" he exclaims. "I don't think she's _quite_ to the level of obsessed, but she's definitely… I don't know… clingy? Extraordinarily eager to please?"

Guinevere sets her fork down, her face blank. "Do I even want to know what _that_ statement is about?"

Arthur's eyes widen. "Oh! No! No, no, no… nothing like that," he insists. "We haven't even gone all the way yet. Though not for lack of trying on her part, come to think…"

She holds up her hands. "Don't want to know."

"I need to end it," he declares. "Tonight. We're going to dinner, and I'll tell her then. I think a public place might be the best venue."

"You think she's that unstable?" she asks. "I mean, that's generally why people pick a public place, to keep someone from making an ugly scene."

"I think she's definitely capable of an ugly scene," he answers.

"Really? Wow. Well, best of luck to you," she says. "Let me know how it goes."

"Yeah, I will. And if you don't hear from me tonight, watch the local news," he warns, only half-joking.

They eat in comfortable silence for a bit, and just when Arthur is about to ask about Lancelot, Guinevere volunteers, "Mithian is leaving the Gardens."

He looks up. "What?"

"Apparently she got a job in public relations or some such at Camelot University," she pointedly says smirking.

Arthur's face is blank for a moment. "Well, then."

"Yeah."

"Has she seemed… happy?" he asks, not sure if he wants to know, but realizing this can't be any more comfortable for Guinevere.

"Deliriously," she answers.

"Yeah. Leon seems pretty happy, too," he comments.

"You know what? Good for them."

He decisively nods. "Yes. They clearly were not meant for us because apparently they were for each other. So yes. Good for them, indeed."

"Bitterness isn't healthy," she declares.

"Too right. And even though my current relationship isn't going to work out, you're happy with Lance, right?" he asks.

She smiles. "Yes. I am."

xXx

"Remember what I said about avoiding an ugly scene?" Arthur asks by way of greeting.

"Oh no," Guinevere replies. "Hang on. I was just changing."

"All right." He waits while she takes care of whatever she needs to do.

"Okay. What happened?" she asks.

"I waited until we were almost finished. She had been going on and on about plans for the weekend. Wanted to go down to Cornwall and spend the weekend on the coast."

"It's October," Guinevere comments. "No one goes to the beach in October."

"I rather think she was not interested in going to the beach, Guinevere," Arthur says, implications clear.

"Ah. Right," she answers. "Continue."

"Lance isn't there, is he? I don't want to take you away from him," he suddenly asks.

"No, he usually doesn't turn up until at least ten," she answers. "Usually I catch a nap before he gets here, but this is more important."

"You're sure? I can tell you tomorrow," he checks.

"I'm sure."

"Okay. I told her our relationship wasn't working for me. She didn't understand. I clarified, saying I liked her, but my feelings for her did not run any deeper than that, and I wanted her to know before things went too far between us."

"What did she say?"

"She said we could still go to Cornwall as friends," he answers.

"Did you ask her to pull the other one as it has bells on?" she asks.

He snorts. "Nah, she was already confused enough. But I knew that if I had agreed, she would have still spent the weekend trying to seduce me. So I declined, saying that it would not be a good idea." He pauses. "I never thought of her as being thick, but she still didn't seem to get it. I had to explicitly tell her that I did not want to date her any more. 'We're over, Nimueh. I'm sorry' I finally had to say. By that time, the check had come and I was trying to hail the waiter so I could pay it as quickly as possible."

"That's when she caused the scene, I'm guessing?" Guinevere asks.

"That's when she caused the scene," Arthur confirms. "She stated crying – loudly – and then dramatically stumbled to her feet. She yelled something about my throwing away the best thing that ever happened to me and that I would regret it and come crawling back."

"What did you do?"

"What _could_ I do? I sat there and took it. The only thing that would have calmed her down wasn't going to happen, so I just let her make a scene. Then she threw her drink at me and stormed out."

"She actually threw her drink at you? Who even does that?" she asks, incredulous.

"Apparently, Nimueh. The waiter brought me a dry napkin, I paid the bill, leaving a very generous tip, apologized to those around me, and went home," he replies. "We weren't at The Rising Sun or The Lake, so that's good news at least. I might not be dining at Pietro's for a while though."

"Hmm… next year's birthday dinner is my choice…" she teases.

"Maybe I'll be willing to show my face there by next September," he chuckles. "As embarrassing as it was, I'm glad it's done."

"Good," she says. "You're all right then?"

"Yes. I feel… lighter. Relieved," he answers. "Maybe a little worried about class next week, but I'll deal with that at the time."

xXx

"Arthur! Arthur, darling, I'm here! Tell them to let me in!"

"Shit," Arthur mutters, downing his champagne and setting the flute down on the bar with a bit more force than necessary.

"Who is that?" Lancelot asks Guinevere, watching as Arthur makes his way towards the ballroom doors.

"Nimueh, his… sadly unstable ex," she answers. "He broke up with her in October. She's gone a bit off of the deep end." Trying to crash the New Year's Eve Gala is only the most recent attempt in a string of antics over the past two months. She kept showing up at the hotel. Left "gifts" outside the gates to Arthur's home, gates he never had occasion to secure before. He's had to change his mobile number and has had to carefully choose his seats in the two classes they have together to prevent her from sitting near him.

"A bit?" Lancelot repeats.

"Um, yeah… he's about ready to get a Restraining Order," she clarifies. "Looks like it may become necessary after tonight."

He nods. "Who's that with him now?" he asks, seeing a large older man fall into step beside Arthur.

"Olaf Eriksson. He runs security for PG," Guinevere chuckles. "Arthur dated his daughter for a while. She was a right twit." Uther joins them as well, his face stony, and Guinevere knows his ire is not only for Nimueh.

"Who _hasn't_ Arthur dated?" he asks.

Guinevere leans up and kisses his cheek. "Me," she answers. Everyone in the ballroom is watching the drama at the doors. "This is going to be in the Society Page this weekend," she mutters.

"Why?" Lancelot asks.

"Because everything marginally interesting that happens to the Pendragon family winds up in the So—"

"No, I meant why haven't you and Arthur dated?" he clarifies. "These canapés are… not good," he declares, setting the appetizer back on his plate, then setting the plate on a nearby table. "He should have had me cater."

Guinevere looks at the small bit of food, frowning slightly. _I like them._ "Then you wouldn't have been able to enjoy the party," she points out, smiling up at him.

"You haven't answered my question," he presses, pulling her into his arms.

"You're really wondering about that, hey?" she asks. He nods. She thinks a moment, pushing back the memory of the one night of drunken almost-passion she shared with Arthur before it shows on her face. "We just never have. We've always just been friends."

He studies her face like he doesn't quite believe her, but decides not to press the issue. "All right then," he answers, and leans down to kiss her.

As Lancelot kisses her, Guinevere realizes that the only real reason she and Arthur have never dated is because he's never asked her out. _And I've never asked him out, either._

There is shouting from the doorway as Nimueh is hauled away by a large security guard, and when the doors close again, Arthur faces the crowd, Uther at his side, glowering.

"Sorry about that, everyone," he announces, holding up his hands in apology. "Nothing like a little excitement at New Year's, hey?" he jokes, and there are answering chuckles from the crowd.

Guinevere watches while Arthur and Uther have a brief, and by the looks of it, unpleasant discussion. Then Arthur walks away, face carefully schooled into an impassive expression as he walks back to the bar, sitting beside Merlin and Freya. Merlin wraps an arm around Arthur's shoulders and says something into his ear. Arthur nods.

"Go," Lancelot urges. "You know you want to."

"I'll be right back," she says, smiling gratefully at him. "No hassling the caterers," she teasingly warns.

"I promise nothing," he calls back, giving her a grin that does not quite reach his eyes.

xXx

"What's up?" Guinevere asks, sitting at a small table in the corner of the restaurant. Lance had texted her early in the afternoon asking her to come to the restaurant on her way home from work.

"I have exciting news," Lancelot says, no longer able to stop his grin.

She smiles. "What is it?"

"You remember last month when Scott Conant was here?" he asks.

"Of course! He was so impressed by your cooking," she answers. The American chef had come to visit in mid January.

"Well, he called me today. It turns out his trip was to scout out new culinary talents in Europe, and, well… he wants to help me open another restaurant," he continues. His smile falters slightly and he adds, "In Los Angeles."

Guinevere's smile completely falls and her eyes widen in shock. "Los Angeles?" She feels like her stomach has just dropped through the floor.

"Yes… he thinks my cuisine will be very well-received there, and… he's going to kind of sponsor me… mentor me. Help me build a reputation in the U.S. Maybe even get me a few appearances on The Food Network."

"Oh," she says, still stunned. _This is amazing news for him._ "What about this place?" she asks, not knowing what else to say.

"Mordred is doing an excellent job. I'm going to promote him to head chef. He'll take over here," he says. He sees her shock and confusion and reaches across for her hand. "Gwen," he adds, "I want you to come with me."

"What?" she asks, still unable to process all that has just happened.

"I want you to come with me to L.A.," he repeats.

"Oh…" she replies, sliding her hand out from between his and placing it in her lap with the other one. She stares down at them. "Oh," she repeats, biting her lower lip. _Am I ready for this? Do I_ want _to go with him?_

He blinks, surprised at her reaction. He was expecting her to immediately say "Yes" and be just as excited as he is. "You don't have to answer right now," he quietly says, standing. "I… I have to get back to work."

"Lance," she says, standing as well. "I…"

"No, I realize this is asking a lot. It's… good that you want to think about it," he says, but he can't hide the hurt in his eyes. "I'll call you later." He turns and walks back to the kitchen, leaving her there to stare at the door as it swings back and forth until it finally stops.

A moment later, she hears a loud, metallic _bang_ that makes her jump. She doesn't want to know what – or who – caused it.

xXx

Guinevere doesn't remember the drive home. She doesn't remember unlocking her door, walking inside, or changing into soft flannel pants and a hoodie.

Yet here she is, on her couch. The only thing of which she is aware is Lancelot's voice saying, "I want you to come with me to L.A." It plays over and over on a loop inside her brain.

And the only thing she can think to answer is, "I don't want to go to L.A."

_But why?_

Problem is, she can't pin down an actual reason. "Because I just don't want to" is not going to be a sufficient answer for him. She feels the weight of her mobile in the pocket of her hoodie, and withdraws it.

Her first impulse is to call Arthur, but she hesitates. Lancelot is already jealous enough of him (something that became abundantly clear at Merlin and Freya's wedding reception when Guinevere shared one slow dance with Arthur), and if he learns she's called him for advice, it will just make matters worse.

She calls her father instead.

"Hey, Gwennie, this is a nice surprise," he says.

"Hi, Daddy."

"Something's wrong," he says, noting her tone. "What's wrong?"

She sighs. "Lancelot is moving to Los Angeles," she says.

"Oh, dear."

"He wants me to come with him."

"Oh, _dear_ ," he repeats. "I take it by your tone that relocating to America is not something that appeals to you?"

"I don't know," she answers, tears starting to form. "I mean… if I love him… and I… I _thought_ I did, there would be no hesitation, right? I would be more than happy to… to set aside my own wants and goals and help him follow his dreams, right?"

Her father pauses thoughtfully. "Not necessarily," he answers. "If _he_ loves _you,_ he will be understanding of your wishes as well. Love is not about throwing away everything you want to make someone else happy, Guinevere."

"I know," her voice is small. "I need to take care of myself, too."

"Yes, and don't you forget it. You can't borrow happiness from someone else. That's just not how it works," he advises.

"He was pretty disappointed when I didn't immediately say 'Yes'," she says. "He tried to cover it up by saying it was a good thing I want to think about it, but I could see the hurt in his eyes."

"Why don't you want to go?"

"I don't know!"

"Guinevere."

She pauses, thinking. She knows she can't keep anything from her father, even over the phone. "I like my life here," she says. "I love my job. I might go back to school and get my doctorate, you know. And I know I could do that in America, and I _know_ this might sound selfish, but… but I just don't _want_ to."

"What else?"

"Well, I have a life here. You and El and Perce. I couldn't leave you, Daddy."

"I would miss you, but if you wanted to move, I wouldn't stand in your way."

"That's not the point!" she says, sniffling. "I don't _want_ to leave you. I don't want to leave you or my brother or Merlin or Arthur…" _Arthur._ She suddenly realizes she would miss him as much as her father and brother. "I wouldn't know anyone there. I would be all alone with only Lancelot and… and what if it doesn't work out?"

"Then you come back home," he simply says.

"Oh yes, very good, the Prodigal Daughter returning home to Camelot after failing as a human in L.A.," she sarcastically replies.

"Guinevere, you're losing your grip," he says. "Take a deep breath." She does. "Have you eaten anything?"

"No."

"Get something to eat," he orders.

"I will."

"Not cereal. Real food."

"Okay."

"Then ask yourself what will make you happier: Being in L.A. with Lancelot, or being in Camelot without him? If you can answer that question, then you have your answer," he counsels.

"I'll try," she answers.

"And remember: Unless it's something that _needs_ to be done, there's absolutely nothing wrong with not doing something simply because you don't _want_ to do it. Not enough people realize this," he adds.

She nods, even though he can't see her. "Thanks, Dad."

"Anytime, Gwennie," he replies. Then, almost as an afterthought, he asks, "Have you told him you love him?"

"No," she answers. "I wanted to wait until I was completely sure. He hasn't said it either. Good thing, too."

"Yes," he agrees. Get some food then. Love you."

"Love you, too, Daddy." She disconnects the call.

As she eats her grilled cheese, she finds she is a little disappointed in how easy it was to come to a decision.

xXx

Lancelot knocks on her door at ten minutes past ten.

He never knocks anymore.

Guinevere lets him in, and she sits on the couch. He takes his coat off, sits in a chair, and says nothing, waiting for her to speak first.

"I can't go with you to L.A.," she quietly says.

"Can't go or won't go?" he asks.

"Won't," she admits. "I'm sorry."

He says nothing for a long moment. "I knew it the moment you hesitated at the restaurant, but it doesn't make it hurt less to hear."

"I know," she replies, nearly whispering. "It's all I thought about after I left the restaurant. I just have too much here. I've just gotten to a really good place with my career, and…"

"They have plant life in California," he points out.

She gives him a slightly exasperated look, and continues. "I have too many people I care about here. I can't leave my family. I'm sorry."

He studies her for a moment, then stands. He walks to the window, and spots a framed photo on the wall of Guinevere with Merlin and Arthur at graduation. "Did you talk with _him_ about it?" Lance asks, his voice cool.

Guinevere looks up, confused. "'Him' who?"

"Pendragon." He jabs a finger at the photo.

"What has he got to do with this?" she asks.

"Rather a lot, from my point of view," he answers, turning to fully face her, crossing his arms over his chest.

She stands, anger bubbling up within her. "The only person I bloody spoke with about this was my _father_!" she shortly replies. "I know you're jealous of Arthur, but he has absolutely nothing to do with my decision to stay in Camelot!" As the words come out of her mouth, she knows they aren't entirely true. But she can't back down now.

"Doesn't he?"

"He has been one of my closest friends for _ten years_ , Lance. Of course I would miss him, but I do have a brother and a father who mean the world to me that… if I left… a large part of my heart would always be back here! I know this, and that's why I can't go with you." She sits again, plopping heavily onto the sofa.

"You're a coward," he bitterly pronounces. "You're choosing safety over love because you're too bloody scared to take a leap."

"I don't love you, Lancelot." The words are out before she realizes she's said them, and she immediately wishes she could take them back. She said them quietly, but she definitely said them.

He says nothing, apparently shocked into silence by her statement.

She cautiously looks up. "I thought I might have, but I realized tonight that I don't. I'm—"

"Don't you fucking _dare_ say 'I'm sorry' again," he growls. He strides past her, grabs his coat, and opens the door. "I hope you're happy with your choice," he spits, then leaves, slamming the door behind him.

A decrescendo of French profanities reach Guinevere's ears through the door as he walks to his car.

She leans forward, her face in her hands, as tears pour from her eyes. _I made the right decision. I did. I had to look after my own happiness, even at the cost of hurting him._

She looks at her phone, still on the table, and picks it up. Again, her impulse is to call Arthur, but she finds she just can't. Not right now.

Instead, she sends him a brief text.

_I'm single again. Will explain tomorrow. I can't talk right now._

Arthur's reply is brief but exactly what she would have expected. _Let me know if you need me. Any time._

Later, as Guinevere lies in bed, futilely attempting to sleep, she admits to herself that Arthur _is_ a rather significant part of the reason she refused Lancelot's request. She also idly wonders if he might consider cashing in on their pact a year early, because she's just _tired._


	6. 29

"This place is cool," Arthur comments, looking around.

"Yeah, it's only been open a few weeks. I hope it does well," Guinevere agrees. "I mean, if the food is good, I hope it does well," she amends, laughing.

Their birthday dinner was her choice this year, and she selected a new Indian place near her flat.

"I wonder if they do takeaway?" he muses, looking at the menu. "You could make use of that."

"I _can_ cook, you know," she says.

"I know you can. And very well. But no one wants to cook _all_ the time," he says.

_Except Lancelot. That was his favorite thing to do._

Arthur sees the look that crosses her face and immediately apologizes. "I'm sorry, Guinevere, I didn't think…"

"No, it's fine," she replies, managing a smile. "Really."

"I saw him on that competition show the other night," he cautiously offers.

"Yeah, I did, too. That's probably why he came to mind so readily," she replies.

"He lost though," he points out, smiling a little. Lancelot made it to the final two, but the other chef wound up winning.

A tiny smirk plays across her face. "Yeah." She takes a drink of water. "I think when Conant told Lance he would get him appearances on the Food Network, he thought that meant _judging,_ not competing."

Arthur snorts a laugh. "Hey, it got him on telly, right?"

Guinevere shrugs. The waitress comes and they order their drinks and food at the same time, since they had already decided what they want.

"I was going to suggest you not watch that channel, but I know that's not going to happen," he says.

She nods. "And that would be like… giving up. Letting him win, that kind of thing," she counters.

"Good point." He reaches across the table and squeezes her hand. "You made the right decision, Guinevere. Staying here." He gives it another gentle squeeze and adds, "And I'm saying that purely for selfish reasons, of course."

She laughs now, and he withdraws his hand. "I know, but it's still good to have that reassurance. I know my dad and brother are also happy I didn't leave."

"And you?"

She nods. "Me, too. I'm glad I stayed. But I think I'm done dating. That mess did me in, I think. I know it was my choice, and the more I think on it, the surer I become that we wouldn't have lasted regardless… but it still wasn't easy." She's been single since she ended things with Lancelot, deciding that she would enjoy herself on her own terms and not worry about dating anyone. She has been asked out a few times, but declined. "I'll just go back to living my life the way I was before."

"On your terms alone," Arthur comments.

"Yep. _All_ the sweatpants," Guinevere replies, grinning.

"No makeup."

"I rarely wear makeup anyway, but yes. Ponytails a-plenty."

"Um… no more shaving your legs?" he tries.

"There's the ticket," she agrees, laughing now.

"Oh, no…" he suddenly says, though he is still laughing.

"What?"

"Oh dear… what kind of state will you be in come September?"

"You mean you wouldn't love me if my legs were hairy?" she asks, still laughing until she realizes exactly what it is she has just said. Then she feels her cheeks grow very warm.

"Of course I would," he answers, his laughter dying off. His stomach does a curious flip. "I do draw the line at body odor, though," he quickly adds, trying to lighten the mood again.

"Well, showering will still be happening," she replies, then picks up her water glass.

The food arrives and conversation turns to other topics. Safer subjects that keep Arthur and Guinevere from thinking Thoughts about the person sitting across the table.

xXx

"You chatted her up in the bar at your own hotel," Guinevere says, staring at him. The holidays have just passed and both Arthur and Guinevere have been single. Arthur went on a couple of dates that yielded nothing significant. Once again, they went as one another's dates to the New Year's Eve Gala, where Merlin and Freya announced they were expecting their first child.

"Yep," Arthur replies, sipping his water while they wait for their drinks. He asked her to meet him for lunch today so he could tell her about what happened yesterday.

_I plopped down on a barstool, heaving a sigh. I glanced at my watch, then asked the bartender for a drink._

_"Rough trip?" a pleasant voice asked. I turned and saw a pretty blonde sitting two stools away, a drink in front of her and a book in her hands._

_"Hmm? Oh. No, just a rough day," I answered. "I'm not a business traveler."_

_"Oh?" she asked, closing her book and moving over to the adjacent seat. "You just like hotel bars then?" she asked with a smile. I noticed she smelled good, too._

_"Well, I work here actually," I answered, not quite ready to show my entire hand. "Spent the day helping search the hotel for a missing child."_

_"Oh, dear. Did you find him?" she asked._

_"Yes. Little bugger was hiding. He thought it was a big lark," I answered._

_She made an incredulous face. "I hope his parents punished him," she said._

_I snorted. "Hardly," I answered, taking a sip of my drink._

_She looked from my drink to the bartender. "Employee discount?" she asked after a moment._

_"Hmm?"_

_"I couldn't help noticing you didn't pay for your drink," she clarified._

_"Ah. Well, yes, I guess you could say it is an employee discount, but I… I'm actually the General Manager here," I admitted. "Arthur." I offered my hand._

_She took at and briefly clasped it. "Elena," she said. "Nice to meet you."_

"Busy day for you," she comments after he finishes. "And she sounds very nice."

"Yes, and yes. We sat at the bar and talked for a very long time. Eventually went to the restaurant and had dinner together. She's a lawyer, and…" He stops, eyes widening.

"What?" Guinevere asks.

"Godwin. Her name is Elena Godwin."

"As in Nigel Godwin?" she asks. "Your father's personal attorney?"

"Shit," Arthur curses, then pulls out his phone. "I can't believe I didn't connect those dots until just now. Elena specializes in a completely different type of law from her father," he continues as he texts his father. "Works with charities and such. A lot of pro bono work, that kind of thing… If she's Nigel's daughter, that would be how she can afford to do that."

"Arthur," Guinevere says, hoping to settle him down, "if you like her, what does it matter if she's the daughter of your father's associate?"

He looks up at her. "He gave me his word he would not meddle in my love life again after Vivian. I need to make sure he and Nigel didn't orchestrate this whole meeting."

"They probably have better things to do with their time than play matchmaker," Guinevere comments.

He sets his phone down and gives her a level look. "Then why was she in my hotel? She wasn't staying there, and no one came to meet her."

"Oh dear…" she says. "Maybe they _don't_ have better things to do with their time."

"He needs to take up golf or something," Arthur mutters just as his phone vibrates. He looks at the text from Uther. "Bugger," he swears.

"Oh, no."

"He claims it was Nigel's idea," he says, scrubbing his hand over his face. "Well, I do like her, so I guess I'll give it a whirl. Besides, we already have a date this weekend."

"That's the spirit," she replies, lifting her glass in a small toast.

"And what about you, Guinevere?" he softly asks.

"I'm still good. Really," she answers. "Besides, we have less than a year left anyway, right?" she cautiously asks, even though she knows they generally only talk about the pact on their birthday.

He smiles, but it quickly falls. "I hadn't considered what would happen if only one of us was in a good relationship by our 30th birthday," he says. "I mean… what if Elena is the one? Then… then what would you do?"

She reaches across the table and places her hand over his. "I would be happy for you, Arthur. Truly."

xXx

Guinevere _was_ truly content to be single. She could do what she liked, didn't have to think about her appearance too much, and was able to catch up on some books and a few shows sitting in her DVR.

Then she met Gwaine.

It was entirely unexpected, as these things often are, and she could not have been caught more off guard.

She and Freya took a trip to a farm just outside town to see about some seeds and cuttings. This particular farm is a supplier for a local florist Dr. Gaius knows and when he found out the farmer cultivates rare and unique plant varieties as somewhat of a hobby, he was eager to do form a relationship with him. "He could have some good specimens for the Seed Bank, Gwen," he told her. And since Dr. Gaius now walks with the aid of a cane, it made more sense for the younger members of the staff to go out and pay a visit to the farm.

So the next week, Guinevere and Freya found themselves driving out to a place called Greene Acres.

"It was really strange," Guinevere tells Arthur over the phone that night. "He was… really charming, really… playful. He flirted with Freya nearly as much as he did with me, even though she is married and spent the entire visit munching saltines because she has morning sickness all the time. But he _really_ knows what he's doing. He took us out to what appeared to be a barn, but it was actually a very sophisticated nursery and laboratory."

"Oh, the old, 'Would you like to see my laboratory?' line," Arthur teases.

"Shut it, you," she laughs. "He was completely – okay, _mostly_ – professional. He didn't _actually_ ask me out until we were getting ready to leave."

"I suppose he couldn't let you go without a guarantee he'd see you again," he reasons. _I can certainly understand that._

"I guess," she admits. "We're going out Saturday."

"I hope it works out for you," he sincerely wishes.

xXx

Uther turned 60 in late February, and Arthur decided to throw him a birthday party at the Gardens with a "Summer Garden Party" theme.

Arthur has met Gwaine ("Sorry. He's far too handsome. I cannot allow it.") and Guinevere has met Elena (and found her lovely), but Gwaine and Elena had yet to meet.

Arthur and Guinevere are understandably nervous (the fact that Mithian and Leon are now living together did not help), but they reasoned that there's no way something like that could happen to them _twice_ , so they tried not to worry too much.

"Guinevere, you look lovely," Arthur greets as she and Gwaine walk in. She's wearing a floral print maxi dress that highlights her lovely shoulders and collarbones once she sheds her heavy winter coat. Gwaine is wearing cargo shorts and a Hawaiian print shirt. "Gwaine, mate, this is a summer garden party, not a luau," Arthur jokingly adds.

Gwaine pulls a pair of sunglasses out of his shirt pocket and puts them on. "Can't see there's much of a difference," he replies with a grin. Then he takes the sunglasses off again, saying, "Can't see much of _anything_ with these on, in fact."

"Yeah, it gets a little dark in here," Guinevere says. "And thank you, Arthur. Where is Elena?"

"She just ran to the ladies'. She should be back any minute," he answers. "Let's go in."

Elena joins them inside, and introductions are made. She openly laughs when Gwaine kisses her hand, and he pouts.

"It seems she's immune to your charms," Guinevere says, reassuringly patting his hand.

"Well, first time for everything," he sighs. "So where's the birthday boy?"

"Over there," Arthur says. "And I wouldn't recommend calling him that to his face," he adds with a laugh.

"I'll do it," Elena volunteers, grinning. "He won't do a thing to me. I imagine you could probably get away with it, too, Gwen."

Guinevere makes a face. "Yeah, not so sure about that one… I'm afraid Uther likely finds me 'common'."

"Pssh," Elena waves a hand. "Uther's an old softie, deep down."

Arthur just _stares_ at her, incredulous. "I have never heard him called that before," he says. Elena laughs and Arthur adds, "He _does_ like you, Guinevere. He's just a gigantic snob so it's hard for him to, you know, display actual human feelings."

Guinevere laughs. "I'll take your word for it, but I'm still not calling him 'Birthday Boy'. I do, however, have a card for him. Is there a box?"

"Over there," Arthur points to a table along one side. "And a guest book."

"Thanks," she answers, then she and Gwaine walk over to deposit the card and sign in.

"They don't behave much like a couple," Gwaine comments a few minutes later. They did not rejoin Arthur and Elena because Gwaine asked Guinevere to show him around the greenhouse.

"Wow, you're quick," Guinevere replies. She's become accustomed to his unfiltered honesty, and while it is often surprising, she has noticed he is very careful about when he allows himself to speak freely. "I noticed something was off about them the first time I saw them together, but it took me a few days to nail it down."

They look across the room to see Arthur and Elena talking with Merlin and Freya. If Guinevere didn't know any of them she would be able to tell from their body language that Merlin and Freya were a couple but would guess that Arthur and Elena are just friends. They rarely touch. Arthur is generally very affectionate, and she's seen them kiss _maybe_ twice.

"Yeah. I mean, Arthur was giving _you_ more 'heart eyes' than he was her. Not that I blame him much," Gwaine remarks pointedly dropping his gaze to her cleavage, "but you're not his girlfriend. She is."

 _It is so nice to have someone who is not jealous of my best friend._ "Well, I don't know about the 'heart eyes' thing, but I do agree that they definitely seem to be more chums than anything. And that's interesting, because Arthur once broke up with a girl because he only _liked_ her. He didn't really feel anything romantic for her, and said it wouldn't be fair to lead her on."

Gwaine nods. "That's better than a lot of blokes would do. How did she take it?"

"Um… not well. Turned out she was a bit obsessed and went a little bonkers. I think she's gotten help now though," Guinevere says. After her attempt to crash the Gala, Nimueh's family intervened and saw to it that she got help.

"Maybe you should remind him of that," Gwaine recommends, wrapping his arm around her shoulders and kissing the top of her head. "He listens to you."

"I'm not sure it's my business," she replies. "Let's go find our table. It's almost time to eat."

"Can't miss that," he agrees.

xXx

After dinner, the swing band they hired begins to play, and the tables are cleared to make room for dancing.

Gwaine turns out to be an excellent dancer and outlasts Guinevere on the dance floor. She goes to take a break while he finds another partner, and finds Arthur sitting at a table, apparently also taking a breather.

"Hey," she says. "Did you lose Elena?"

"She's dancing with her father," he nods.

"Oh, yeah, there they are," she replies, sitting beside him. She wants to ask him about his relationship with Elena, but the right question won't form, and now doesn't really seem like the right time. "This is a good party. I think Uther is really enjoying it."

Arthur looks out and sees his father dancing with Morgana, little Graham balanced between them. He smiles. "Yes. Thanks for the suggestion."

"Anytime. And just so you know, despite the fact that he's a gigantic snob… your dad's okay. And he actually spoke to me tonight, too!" she says, chuckling.

Arthur dramatically gasps. "No!"

"He thanked me for coming to his party," she says.

"That was nice of him," he replies. The music changes to a slow number. "Dance with me."

"Arthur, I was taking a break…" she protests, but he is already pulling her to her feet.

"It's a slow song. I'm not going to twirl you and throw you around like Gwaine was doing," he says, leading her to the floor.

Elena had been making her way towards Arthur but stopped when she saw him with Guinevere. She decides to get a drink and rest a minute, and finds herself watching her boyfriend and his friend dance. Only it doesn't truly look like they are just friends. She frowns lightly, but is a little surprised to find she doesn't really feel any jealousy.

xXx

Later that night, Arthur calls Guinevere. It's after midnight, and she was sleeping, but of course she answers, taking her phone out into the living room so as not to disturb Gwaine.

"What's up?" she asks.

"I just had a rather interesting breakup," he answers. He doesn't sound sad or upset in any way.

"Okay…"

"Elena and I just had a very honest conversation about our relationship. Remember your brief affair with Merlin?" he asks.

"Gah, don't call it that," she groans. "But yes, of course I do."

"Elena and I… well, we're friends. I think she's great and she thinks I'm great and we actually have quite a bit in common, but…"

"No spark."

"Bingo. We had fun, but the romance part always felt a little off," he admits.

"Can I tell you something?"

"Of course," he replies, surprised she would even ask.

"I kind of noticed that. Like… to the casual observer you and Elena behaved like mates, not lovers," she confesses. "Gwaine noticed immediately."

"Why didn't you say anything?"

"Well, it's not my place, is it? I mean, yeah, you're my best friend, but… I mean, what could I say? 'Hey Arthur, do you know you and Elena don't really act like boyfriend and girlfriend?' That's just… weird," she says.

"I suppose you're right." Apart from their brief and disastrous foray into setting one another up, they've never really interfered with that part of each other's lives.

"You'll remember I never mentioned I didn't much care for Vivian until after you broke up with her," she points out.

"True," he admits.

"You okay?" she asks, letting her head drop on the couch cushion.

"Yeah," he answers. "I'll let you go back to bed."

"Talk to you tomorrow?" she asks.

"Absolutely." They disconnect the call, and Arthur looks at her contact photo on his phone, thinking of the things he didn't tell her.

Like how Elena came right out and asked him why he's never asked Guinevere out.

And how he didn't have an answer for her.

And how she told him what she saw when she watched him dance with her.

And how, after Elena left, he realized something.

But now she's with Gwaine.

xXx

_Kisses feather across my skin from my neck to my shoulder, then down. Strong hands mold themselves to my waist, my hips as soft lips close over my nipple. A tongue flicks, then swirls, and my hands move, one sliding across a muscular shoulder, the other threading into silken hair, the strands sliding between my fingers. I open my eyes and look down at the golden head hovering over my chest, and whisper his name._

_"Arthur…"_

_He hears my call and moves back up to my lips. He pulls my thighs around his hips, then murmurs, "I love you, Guinevere," against my lips before deeply kissing me. He lowers his hips and thrusts into me, and I cry out, "Oh, God…" gripping his shoulders._

_His hands and lips seem to be everywhere, and we move together as one, blissful._

_"Arthur…"_

xXx

Guinevere awakens some time later feeling overwarm and slightly aroused. She sits up and blinks, wondering what kind of dream she must have been having.

Then she remembers. Vaguely. Only feelings and shadows; nothing concrete, but she definitely knows the basic plot of it.

She hears movement and lifts her head to see Gwaine getting dressed. He is regarding her with uncharacteristic seriousness. And curiosity.

Two months have passed since Uther's birthday party, and Guinevere has been having a good time with Gwaine. He's like a breath of fresh air after the often-moody Lancelot. He's a little crazy but a lot brilliant, and just impetuous enough to be exciting and interesting in a good way. He's been good for her, and she feels like they're in a good place.

Or so she thought.

"Gwaine?" she asks. It's a Saturday, and they were going to go out to the farm and spend the day checking seedlings and playing in the dirt. "What's wrong?"

His face softens, and he comes over to sit on the bed, pulling his shirt over his head as he does so. "You're amazing, Gwen, you really are. I could fall for you so easily…" He pauses, sighing. "I may already be a little bit in love with you, but… I can't be your second choice."

"Second… What? Where is this coming from?" she asks, confused. She sits up, pulling the blankets around her.

He touches her cheek. "You never _really_ listen to your heart, do you?" he asks.

"Can you spell it out for me, please? I just woke up, and it sounds like you're breaking up with me, and I still don't know why," she says, a tear slipping from the corner of her eye.

He thumbs it away and gives her a sad smile. "When a women with whom I am sleeping is moaning someone's name in her sleep, I prefer for it to be mine," he simply says. Strangely, there is no bitterness or anger in his voice.

She covers her face, which now feels like it's on fire. She doesn't ask whose name she said. More details from her dream come flooding back, and she doesn't _need_ to ask. "Oh, God…"

"Yeah, you said that, too," he dryly comments, straightening up, leaning away from her. "Last night wasn't the first time either."

 _Shit._ She drops her hands. "Why aren't you angry?" she asks.

"Would it do any good?" he asks. "I'm hurt, yes. Sad? Definitely. Jealous? Bloody hell, yes. But I just want you to be happy. That's what you do when you care about someone. You wish them happiness, even if it's not with you." He stands up. "To be honest, I've always noticed the way he looks at you. And you sometimes look at him the same way, but it's not as obvious." He begins collecting his things from her bedroom and bathroom while Guinevere watches with tears streaming down her cheeks. He closes his bag and looks down at her. "I'm stepping aside to protect myself, Gwen. Because it will hurt less if I do it now. I'm also stepping aside because I know he would never do anything about his feelings for you as long as you're with me. And that's not fair to you." He slings his bag onto his shoulder. "So we're clear: I'm doing this for _you_ , not him. So if he comes calling, _when_ he does… don't turn him away. You don't think with your heart enough, Love. Don't let your amazing brain get in the way."

Guinevere can only nod. What can she even say to all that? "You'll always have a dear place in my heart, Gwaine," she whispers.

"You, too, Princess," he replies, sitting again. He takes her hand. "I wish you all the happiness in the world, because you deserve it. I'm just not the man to give it to you." He kisses her hand, then stands and leaves.

Guinevere sits in bed, staring blankly, completely thrown. She's been awake less than half an hour and her entire world has been turned upside down. She flops back onto her pillows and pulls the blankets over her head, thinking about Gwaine's words. And her dream.

She struggles with those thoughts and the inevitable memories they bring up, memories from eight years ago that involve Arthur's lips and hands. Memories she tries not to let out of their box.

_Why not let them out? Why am I so afraid?_

She can't even call Arthur right now because he's in Finland with Uther and Olaf for the next few weeks, looking to expand the Pendragon empire into Scandinavia.

_It's just as well. I don't know if I could handle talking to him right now anyway._

xXx

He calls her the next day regardless.

"Arthur, you shouldn't be calling me from Finland," Guinevere protests. She's happy to hear his voice, but feels a bit uneasy because she hasn't figured out what she's going to tell him about Gwaine.

"I missed you," he simply says, hoping she doesn't hear too much longing in his voice.

"Well, I miss you, too, and I know you've got money, but you shouldn't be running up your mobile bill on international calls to _me_ ," she protests, allowing herself to notice the little wobble her stomach did at hearing he misses her.

"How are you?" he asks.

"Single," she sighs.

 _What? I leave the country and she breaks up with Gwaine?_ "What happened? I thought you guys were in a good place?"

 _Think think think._ She takes a deep breath. "We decided we were just too different," she settles on. "He's just so…"

"Impulsive," Arthur supplies.

"Yes," Guinevere agrees. "And I'm just so _not_ ," she finishes, laughing. Arthur and Merlin used to tease her about it at University, in fact.

"Yes. Dear, level-headed Guinevere," he says, his voice warm with affection. Perhaps a bit too much. _Dial it back, Pendragon._

"Can't change who I am," she agrees. "He was fun, but… it wouldn't have lasted." Even with only 24 hours past, she knows this to be true, even without the whole Arthur Complication.

"I'm sorry, Guinevere," he says.

She has always noticed that he insists on calling her by her full name, but she never really noticed _how_ he says it until just now. He says it like a prayer. A caress. "Thanks," she whispers.

"This isn't going to affect the business relationship the Gardens have with him, is it?" he suddenly asks.

"No," she firmly states, grateful for the slight change of subject. "I'm certain of that."

"You're sure?"

"He texted me last night to specifically tell me."

"Good."

"Yes. Dr. Gaius worked too hard to build that relationship for the failure of _our_ relationship to screw things up," she says. "How's Helsinki?" she asks, not wanting to talk about Gwaine anymore.

"Cold, but friendly," he answers, chuckling.

When they hang up a short time later, Guinevere starts scrolling though the photos in her phone. She deletes any that contain Gwaine. She lingers over the ones with Arthur.

In Finland, Arthur allows his thoughts to wander, pondering what to do about Guinevere.

Not so much _what,_ but _when._


	7. 30

"Where are we going, George?" Guinevere asks, willing her voice to be light and conversational. Innocent. Not prying at all.

"Mr. Pendragon has made it abundantly clear that I am not to divulge this evening's destination, Miss Leodegrance," George dutifully answers. "I am sorry."

She sighs. "It was worth a shot," she answers. "Can you at least tell me why you tried to convince me to change clothes?"

"It was Mr. Pendragon's wish that you be dressed casually, Miss. He specifically mentioned blue jeans," he says, his voice tight.

 _I should have changed._ "I'll make sure he knows you tried, George," she says. She knows Arthur would never fire or otherwise punish George, but the driver's defeated demeanor is making her regret not complying with Arthur's wishes.

George nods and turns down a little-used road.

_Where are we going?_

The months following Guinevere's breakup with Gwaine have been a little… strange. Arthur wound up being gone for a large portion of the spring and summer, traveling with his father on business. He called her more frequently than he should have (to Guinevere's mind), and often shipped her small packages containing gifts from his travels. When she asked him why, he simply said, "It's easier than trying to find room in my luggage." When she said that wasn't exactly what she meant, he would only say, "Well, I keep seeing things I think you'll like." She wanted to tell him how her heart leapt with excitement every time she saw something from him in the post. But she couldn't.

She didn't like that he was gone so much, and she didn't like that she missed him so much, especially because she hasn't been able to see him enough to figure out if Gwaine was right about him. If he feels something _more_ for her. If he feels the same way she has realized she feels about him.

Freya gave birth to a baby girl in August, and Arthur raced back home immediately to see his new "niece". Guinevere thought maybe he held their hug just a _little_ longer than he should have, but wasn't sure. Then all of their attention was focused on the new baby, and she wasn't able to get him alone to see if she could get a read on him.

She's hardly had an opportunity to be alone with him in months, and now she's on her way to celebrate their shared birthday at an undisclosed location that she is beginning to think will also be completely private.

It makes her simultaneously nervous and excited.

The jolt of the car leaving the paved road snaps Guinevere out of her thoughts, and she looks out the window to see nothing but trees.

George drives a little ways into the forest, then stops. "Please follow me, Miss Leodegrance."

She gets out of the car and follows, grateful she wore flat sandals, since they walk until the car is no longer in sight. It has been unseasonably warm this week, and the leaves have not yet begun to turn. The sun is getting to be somewhat low in the sky, and Guinevere hopes Arthur has brought some illumination. And insect repellant. _Of course he has. I'm sure he's thought of—_ "Oh…"

George nods at Arthur, then steps away, leaving Guinevere gaping at the scene before her. "Picnic" isn't quite the correct word for the lavish setup of blankets, pillows, and sumptuous food, all surrounded by citronella torches.

"Guinevere, you look…" his voice trails off, a dreamy half-smile on his face.

"Oh," she repeats. "George _did_ try to convince me to wear jeans," she dumbly says. "And, um, thanks," she adds, taking a cautious step forward.

His gaze involuntarily drops to her bare legs. She is wearing a sundress that hangs to just past her knees and has a cardigan sweater over her arm. "Happy birthday," he says, holding his hand out.

"Happy birthday to you, too," she answers, taking his hand and letting him lead her to the blanket. "Where did you get all this?" she asks, sitting.

"I made most of the food," he casually says, opening a bottle of wine. He pours two glasses and hands her one. "The blankets and pillows I bought, and…"

"Wait, you _made_ this food?" she asks.

He nods. "I figured if Lance can make a bloody career of it, how hard could it be?"

She laughs, and he warmly smiles at her. He loves making her laugh, and plans to spend the rest of his life doing so, if everything goes as he hopes tonight.

In fact, it's taking all he has not to pull her into his arms and kiss her until she forgets everyone else ever existed. He's been planning this date for months, and now that it's finally here he just wants to spill everything, but he knows he should wait. Especially because he's not completely sure how she'll react. He distracts himself by preparing a plate for her, piling it with her favorites that he learned how to make especially for tonight. Roast chicken with carrots and celery. Fried potatoes. Fresh bread.

"Arthur, this looks so good," Guinevere says, plucking a carrot from her plate with her fingers.

"Thank you. It was actually rather fun," Arthur replies, sitting with his own plate.

They eat, chatting a bit about superficial topics. Guinevere waits. She instinctively knows she needs to let _him_ to bring up their marriage pact.

He does so when she is mostly finished.

"Guinevere," he says, setting aside his plate, which is empty apart from a few chicken bones.

Her stomach flips in response to how he has just said her name, but she manages to answer, "Yes?"

"I… I want to cancel our pact," he says.

Her heart drops into her stomach, and she sets her plate aside. "What?"

Her stricken expression feels like a stab wound to his chest, but it also gives him the hope and strength to say the next part of the speech he prepared. "I don't want to marry you because of some… agreement we made five years ago," he says. He reaches across and takes her hand in his. "I want to marry you because… because I am in love with you, Guinevere."

She gasps and tears pool in her eyes as she looks at him. "You are?" she whispers.

He scoots closer, moving their plates out of the way, then leans over and softly kisses her. "I am. Hopelessly." He kisses her again, longer this time. "Completely."

"Oh God, I love you, too, Arthur," she breathes after he pulls away. She lifts her hand and caresses his cheek. He leans into the touch, eyes closing.

"You do?" he asks.

"Yes," she answers. "With all my heart."

He dives in again, kissing her with abandon now that she's said the words, now that he knows she'll be his. His tongue finds hers as he leans over her, easing her back onto the pillows he's now _very_ glad he brought along.

"So…" he murmurs between kisses, "is that a yes? You'll marry me?" He moves his lips, kissing down her neck to allow her to answer, despite the fact he hasn't _really_ asked.

"Yes," she gasps, leaning her head back. "Yes, Arthur," she repeats, sliding her fingers into his hair. "I'll marry you because we love each other… not because we're 30 and desperate."

He kisses along her collarbone, then moves back up, grinning at her and saying, "Good." Then he pecks her lips and disappears.

"Arthur?" Guinevere asks, sitting up again.

Arthur finishes rummaging in one of the bags piled near the base of the tree they are under, and immediately drops to one knee before her. Her eyes widen.

"Guinevere," he says, holding a small item out to her, "I love you. I… I think I have for years, but I didn't realize it until…" he clears his throat, "until this spring. And now that I finally see that what I have always truly wanted had been right beside me all along, I…" He breaks off again, curses under his breath, regroups, and simply says, "Will you marry me?"

She leaps forward, throwing her arms around his neck in a tight hug. "Yes, I will," she answers, then starts laughing. "We're doing this backwards," she giggles, releasing him. "We're supposed to date first."

He looks at her. "Do you really think we need to?" he asks, his face amused.

"No," she answers, then finally looks at the ring he's been holding. "Oh…" It's a beautiful platinum ring with a rather large diamond in the center, surrounded by more diamonds. She's never seen anything like it. "It's beautiful, Arthur."

"I got it in Milan," he says, taking it out of the box. She holds out her hand, and he slides it onto her finger. "Wow, I guessed right," he mutters, chuckling.

"Milan?" she asks.

"I must have shopped every jewelry store in Europe," he says, quite seriously.

She looks down at the beautiful ring on her hand, then back up at him. "You were supposed to be traveling for business," she says, trying not to smile. "Uther allowed you to take time to scour the continent for the perfect ring for me? Wait, Uther _knows_?"

He grins and looks down, settling in beside her again. "Yes, and yes. Once he noticed I kept slipping away, I was forced to confess," he says. "He was… happy for me. For us. I think. As happy as he lets himself get anyway." He blinks a little, taking her hand. "Well, he obviously approved, because he let me keep looking."

Guinevere laughs, leaning back on the pillows again. She tugs his sleeve and he drops down, leaning on his elbow, gazing at her.

"You are so beautiful, Guinevere. I don't think I've ever told you," he says, winding a loose curl around his finger. "Not while I was sober, anyway," he adds before capturing her lips once more.

Guinevere's head is spinning, but in a very good way. The evening has turned out much better than she could have hoped. Her hands rove his back, and she can tell he is struggling to keep his hands from wandering too much.

Only she wants them to wander. She wants to feel every part of him with every part of her. A quiet moan escapes at this realization, and it also makes her grow bold, sliding her hand down his back to grab his rear.

"Guinevere," he says, lifting his head in surprise.

She merely looks up at him, catching her lower lip in her teeth for just a moment. He groans and drops his head to her neck again, sliding one hand up to her breast as he kisses the exposed skin above the neckline of her sundress.

They shift a bit until he is nestled between her legs. She can feel his arousal pressed against her and it only spurs on her own. He moves one hand down to her thigh and begins sliding it upwards.

"Mmm, I'm so glad you didn't listen," he murmurs against her chest at the feel of her skin under his palm.

"Arthur…" she gasps when his hand gets high enough for his fingers to start investigating the edge of her panties. "We are not doing… _that_ out here," she says, wishing her voice sounded stronger.

"No one will find us," he promises, lifting his head. "This is private property." However, he obediently moves his hand away.

"I do like your enthusiasm, and… perhaps another time, but just not now. Not for our first time," she clarifies. She gazes up at him for a few moments. "Why did we never try this before? I mean, apart from that one birthday," she asks, smoothing his now-tousled hair.

"I honestly have no idea," he answers. "But you know, a very wise person once said that friendship often makes the best foundation for… more," he adds with a grin.

Guinevere laughs, turning her head to the side. "Oh, dear…" she sighs.

"What?" Arthur asks, rolling off of her.

"Merlin. Why didn't it work with him? But with us… I mean… it was _never_ like this with him," she says. "The two months with him weren't anywhere near as hot or as… meaningful as the last fifteen minutes we just spent together," she softly admits.

He softly smiles at her, then leans over and kisses her. Then he simply says, "Merlin isn't me," sounding rather pleased with himself. "Oof," he grunts as she playfully prods him in the ribs for his arrogance before scooting over and cuddling against his side.

"I hate to feed your ego, but you're actually right," she replies. "He _isn't_ you. I just… wasn't attracted to him, I guess."

"And none of those other people we dated worked out because we were supposed to be together," he finishes. He looks down at her. "We've wasted a lot of time, Guinevere."

"Well, let's not waste any more," she replies, suddenly sitting up.

"What? Where are you going? What are you doing?" he asks, confused.

"Packing up," she answers.

"Packing up?" he asks. "We still have dessert… I brought cheesecake…"

She looks at him, dishes in hand. "Do you want to stay out here and just eat dessert or do you want to go back to your house and _feed_ it to me?"

He leaps to his feet and begins helping, pausing only to text George to bring the car closer.

xXx

On their way to Arthur's they decide to call Merlin. Arthur puts him on speaker.

"Hey, aren't you guys supposed to be having your Super Secret Private Members Only Birthday Dinner?" he asks.

"Well, we still are. Kind of," Guinevere says. "But we have news."

"Oh?"

"We're getting married," Arthur declares.

"You're what now?"

"Getting married," Guinevere answers.

"Funny," Merlin replies, obviously thinking they are joking.

Guinevere snorts a laugh, then takes a picture of her left hand with her phone. She sends it to Merlin. "I just texted you something."

It's silent for a few moments, then Merlin exclaims, "Bloody hell!" sending Arthur and Guinevere into a fit of giggles. "Are you lot drunk?"

"Sober as a judge," Arthur insists. "Honestly, mate, I've been planning this for months."

"We both kind of realized that we love each other, and…" Guinevere adds.

"You could have told me," Merlin grouses.

"You are absolute bollocks at keeping a secret, mate," Arthur says. "I mean, if I had told you how I feel about Guinevere and _she_ had told you, separately, how she feels about me, and we both asked you not to say anything, there is no way in hell you would have been able to act normal around either one of us."

Merlin says nothing for a long moment. "True," he finally admits. "Hey, you know, I'm really happy for you two," he adds, obviously over his hurt. "Hang on." A moment later they hear him calling to his wife. "Freya!"

"Don't yell!" her distant voice responds. "You'll wake Reagan."

"Sorry. Arthur and Gwen are getting married," he says.

It is silent for a moment, and Arthur looks over at Guinevere, intrigued.

"About time they figured that out," Freya says.

"What?" Merlin replies

"What?" Arthur and Guinevere echo.

"Come on, Love, you couldn't tell they fancied each oth— wait, are you on the phone with them right now? Why didn't you tell me before I started spouting off!" Freya's voice grows louder as she moves closer to Merlin.

"Put us on speaker, Merlin," Guinevere says, laughing. "Hi Freya," she says.

"Hello," Freya sounds sheepish.

"Don't worry, you didn't say anything that we probably won't hear from 25 other people," Arthur reassures her, glancing over at Guinevere and surprised to see her nodding in agreement.

"Gwaine," she says, "I'll explain later."

"Elena," Arthur replies. "We'll talk to you tomorrow, okay?" he asks Merlin.

"Why don't you come over for lunch?" Freya suggests. "Merlin just showed me the photo of your ring, and I need to see that in person."

"All right. I miss my little Reagan anyway," Arthur replies.

"Congrats, you two," Merlin says. They can hear the smile in his voice.

"Thanks," they answer, then disconnect the call.

"George, would you stop at my flat before taking us to Arthur's?" Guinevere asks. She looks at Arthur and adds, "I'd like to pick up a few things."

"Yes, Miss Leodegrance," George answers.

Arthur leans over and kisses her. "Excellent idea," he says. He kisses her once more, then straightens up. "If I start again, I'm not going to stop," he admits.

Guinevere smiles. "Yeah," she agrees. She looks over at him. "I've never forgotten our 21st birthday," she quietly confesses.

"I haven't either," he admits. "I kept telling myself it was nothing, that it was the alcohol… but I never forgot the feel of your lips," he says, reaching over and stroking her lower lip with his thumb. "Or anything else," he adds.

She giggles and kisses his thumb. "I remember liking how your lips… and hands felt," she confesses. "And wondering—"

"Stop," he groans, dropping his hand to clasp hers. He raises their joined hands and kisses hers. "Bugger me, why did we wait so long?" he muses.

xXx

"I won't be a second," Guinevere says, climbing out of the car when George opens her door. She jogs to the building, and by the time she gets to her door, Arthur is right behind her. "Arthur!" she yelps, giggling as he wraps his arms around her.

He kisses her against the inside of the closed door of her apartment. When he slides his hands down and attempts to pick her up, she stops him.

"Arthur," she says, placing her hands on his chest. "George is waiting outside."

"He's well-paid for his time," he replies, undeterred.

"Arthur."

He stops. "You're right," he agrees, stepping back. "That wasn't very good of me, was it?"

She kisses his cheek, then heads to her room. "It was a bit snobbish, yes," she confirms, calling over her shoulder. "But you recognized it, and admitting you have a problem is the first step to recovery."

"Hey!" he protests, but when she turns to face him, she is smiling.

"Tomorrow is Friday," she declares.

"Yes," he replies, wondering what her point is.

"Just… for how long should I pack?" she asks. "I mean, I have to work tomorrow, but I'd like to stay over anyway. Um, would until Sun—"

"How about forever?" he asks.

She blinks.

"Too much," he backpedals. "Sor—"

"No, it's not that," she reassures him. "I just hadn't even thought about it… I mean, we're moving really fast, and—"

"Maybe we should slow d—"

"No!" she cuts him off, stepping closer to him. She places her hands on either side of his face. "I don't want to slow down, Arthur. This…" she kisses him, "this is right. It feels like… everything has finally slid into its proper place. You. Me. _Us._ "

"So, forever?" he asks.

She laughs. "Yes, forever. As far as packing goes though… you'll have to settle for my packing a bag until we can get organized and move me properly."

He kisses her. "My dear, level-headed Guinevere," he says. Then he releases her so she can finish packing.

xXx

Once they get everything unpacked from the picnic, Guinevere realizes she has almost completely forgotten about dessert.

And her father and brother.

"Oh my God, I need to call my dad!" she exclaims just as Arthur begins slicing the cheesecake.

"So call him," Arthur chuckles.

She was prepared for her father to be shocked, confused, or even upset. She was not prepared for him to be among the "It's About Time" crowd. He was thrilled, and even talked with Arthur a little.

"Standard fatherly advice and a not-so-thinly veiled warning," Arthur reports after she disconnects the call. "Are you going to call Elyan?"

"Dad said he and Perce are out for the evening," Guinevere replies. "I'll call him tomorrow."

"Good," Arthur declares. He picks up the plates. "Anyone else?"

"No one that can't wait. Morgana?"

"Um, I don't need to call her," he quietly answers.

"She already knows." She follows him to his room.

"She said I was an idiot for taking this long," he says. "Why did nobody give us a hint?"

"Would you have believed them?" she asks, sitting on his bed.

"Would you?" he returns.

"No," she answers, laughing.

"Some things we need to figure out for ourselves," he agrees. "Now. Do you want this cheesecake or not?" he asks, holding the plates aloft.

She looks at the plates, then at him. "After," she says.

He almost drops the plates. She giggles and he quickly but carefully sets them on top of the dresser.

Guinevere reaches up to unwind her hair from its braid just to give her fidgety hands something to do while she watches Arthur approach.

He drops to his knees on the floor beside the bed, looking up at her for a long moment before leaning over and kissing her kneecap. His hands come up to rest on her knees, thumbs stroking her skin. "I love you so much, Guinevere… and I can't believe I didn't…"

"Shh." She softly presses her index finger against his lips. "Neither of us did. But we can't dwell on it, Arthur," she says, moving her hand to his cheek, allowing her thumb to linger over his lower lip. "Time to move forward," she suggests.

He slides his hands up her legs, over her skirt this time, lifting up on his knees as his hands reach her backside. "Moving forward is a good idea," he replies, kissing her. "You always know what to say," he adds, slowly making his way onto the bed. "How to make me feel better."

She scoots back until her head reaches the pillows and he follows, hovering over her. "You do the same for me," she answers, sliding her fingers through his hair.

"I do?" he asks, lifting up to look down at her.

She nods. "Always," she answers, her hands sliding from his shoulders and moving down, tracing the contours of his chest as they make their way to the hem of his t-shirt. "Off," she murmurs, plunging her hands under his shirt and sliding them up.

He jumps at the contact, then leans back just enough to remove the garment. "You're still on the pill, right?" he asks, having a sudden moment of logical thought.

"Yeah," she answers, now busy with his belt.

They know they are both free of any diseases (Gwen even got tested after leaving Helios, just in case), so any potentially awkward conversations do not need to take place.

"Good," he replies, helping her remove his trousers. He shuffles them off, then returns to her wearing only boxer briefs. "You're still dressed," he comments.

"Very observant," she replies, laughing. She sits up and turns around. "Zipper," she quietly says.

As he lowers her zipper, he takes a moment to notice how… _natural_ this feels. Of course he feels all the exhilaration of making love to her for the first time, but it somehow doesn't feel like the first time. He leans forward and kisses her shoulder, nudging the strap of her sundress out of the way with his nose. She turns around and looks at him, her hair in disarray, dress rumpled and hanging askew, lips pink and slightly swollen, and a glittering diamond ring on the third finger of her left hand. She looks magnificent. "I don't think you could look more beautiful than you do right now," he says, his voice low.

Guinevere smiles and bashfully looks down, then eases her dress off of her shoulders and drops it onto the floor.

Arthur forgets to breathe. His eyes trace the curves and contours of her body like a caress. "I think I need to amend my previous statement," he says, prowling back over her.

She reaches out to him, placing her palms on his chest then sliding them up to his shoulders, holding on as he eases her back down onto the pillows. She has seen him shirtless before – even rubbed sunblock on his back a few times – but this is the first time she's been able to touch him this way, and she revels in it, exploring unabashedly as they kiss, losing themselves in one another.

His hands are equally busy, familiarizing himself with the feel of her breasts and curves, learning what makes her moan and whimper and cry out with pleasure.

Her body writhes under his, pressing up against him. She can feel his hardened length against her hip and slips her hand down to close around it, rubbing through the material of his boxer briefs.

"Oh…" he grunts, his body reflexively jerking in response to her touch. He regroups and kisses his way down her neck, following the tendon along one side and lingering when she lightly gasps.

She moves her hand to the waistband of his boxers, shoving at it, trying to remove them. He takes the hint and quickly rids himself of the garment. He returns, dropping a kiss on her stomach as he reaches for her panties.

This time she lets him remove them. He slowly peels them off and drags them down her long, slender legs. "You are incredibly beautiful, Guinevere," he quietly intones, kissing her hip, then moving higher to kiss her breasts. His lips and tongue lavish attention on her, and she pleasurably hums, sliding her fingers into his hair.

Guinevere moves her leg, wrapping it around his and sliding her foot up and down his calf. The motion allows his shaft to nudge her damp center, and she flexes her hips, instinctively seeking out contact.

Arthur skims one hand down over her body until his fingers find their target, seeking out the warmth he just discovered. He circles once, and she moans. He does it some more, then moves them lower, slipping inside her and pumping in and out a few times.

"Arthur…" Her voice sounds enough like a plea for him to understand what she wants. But before he can settle between her thighs, she moves, slipping out from under him.

"Oh!" he exclaims, rolling onto his back as she climbs over him. "Mmm, this is good, too," he rumbles, watching her hovering over him.

"I like to be on top," she whispers, grinning down at him for a moment. She kisses his nose, then trails her hand down his chest and stomach, reaching between them to position him where she wants him.

He groans when she moves her hips down, drawing him into her. She leans down and kisses him again, not moving, just savoring the feel of being joined with him for the first time. "I love you," she whispers, her lips brushing his.

"I love you, too," he answers, his fingers digging into her rear as he claims her lips in a searing kiss. His hips flex, hoping to encourage her to move.

She does, the motion of her hips complementing his as he lifts up to meet her. "Mmm," she hums, her fingers in his hair again.

"Yes," he agrees, moving his head to close his lips over her nipple, sucking and flicking the stiff nub with his tongue.

"Oh," she gasps, leaning back and sitting up. He follows, sitting up and holding her against him, helping her move on his lap.

"Open your eyes," he whispers, running his nose along hers.

She does, and meets his gaze as they pick up their pace, starting to grow frantic as the sensations build. "Touch me," she breathes, clinging to his shoulders.

Needing no further explanation, he slips a hand between them to the spot where she needs him, softly rubbing his thumb back and forth against her sensitive, swollen button.

"Ah… oh…" she gasps, her forehead against his. She cries out and he swallows it with a deep kiss, his free arm wrapping tightly around her back as he climaxes at the same time.

"Guinevere," he sighs a moment later, her name spoken into her mouth.

"Arthur," she replies, sagging against him, spent and boneless.

He lies back, bringing her with him. She squirms, trying to get comfortable, and he jumps a little when her motion causes him to slip out of her. She giggles and rolls off of him, curling into his side.

"That was better than I could have ever imagined," Arthur says after a time. "And trust me, I did some imagining."

Guinevere laughs. "It was… amazing, Arthur," she says. "God, we're stupid."

His laughter joins hers. "We've got the rest of our lives to make up for it, my love," he replies, looking down at her.

She nods, and kisses his chest. "I hate to ruin the moment, but I need to…"

"Oh. Right," he says, opening his arms so she can get out of bed. She heads to the en suite bathroom, not bothering to put anything on, and he watches with unabashed interest.

She returns a few minutes later, smirking at how smugly satisfied he looks, lying there with his fingers laced behind his head, rumpled sheet just barely covering him below the waist. "Proud of yourself?" she asks, trying to cover the fact that she actually thinks he looks incredibly sexy.

"Should I not be?" he returns, one corner of his lips turning up in a half smile. "God, you are gorgeous," he adds, his eyes glued to her as she climbs back into the bed.

"You're not too shabby, either," she replies, kissing his chest. "Not too shabby at all."

He laughs again, wrapping her in his arms. He kisses her forehead and says, "Bloody hell, now I have to pee."

She snorts a laugh while he gets out bed. "Nice arse you got there," she calls. He really does have a very nice backside. _Must be all that football he played,_ she reasons.

"Glad you like it," he calls over his shoulder just before he disappears into the bathroom.

Guinevere straightens out the bedclothes a bit, and when Arthur returns, she has made herself comfortable, looking like a goddess in repose. His steps slow and he just takes a moment to fully take her in.

"Arthur?"

"You look so amazing, lying here in my bed," he quietly says, sliding in beside her, leaning on one elbow. He toys with one of the curls surrounding her head like a mahogany halo. "Even in my wildest dreams, I never… what?" he stops, noticing how her eyes widen and her dusky cheeks color slightly.

She bites her lower lip. "I wasn't completely honest with you about why Gwaine and I broke up," she admits.

"Oh?" he asks, interested, wondering what prompted her to suddenly confess.

"Apparently, I had some… dreams… about you," she says, looking away. "And apparently I also talk in my sleep."

 _Right. I mentioned dreams._ "Oh really?" he asks, now _very_ interested. He shifts so he is fully sitting up. "Do tell." He doesn't really need to ask what the dreams were or who they involved.

She makes a noise somewhere between a sigh and a snort and sits up as well, pulling the sheets up to cover her chest. "I honestly don't remember all the details. I know they were… you know, _sex_ dreams, and you were in them. And I know it happened more than once. I guess Gwaine isn't a very heavy sleeper."

Arthur's grin falls and he asks, "He wasn't… cruel to you about it or anything, was he?"

"No, not at all," she reassures him. "He was actually really cool about it. It wasn't only the dreams though. He said that he could see how you looked at me… and said I looked at you the same way. Well, the same but not as… overtly. He told me he wouldn't be my second choice."

"Wow. He's… wow. Better man than a lot of blokes would have been in the same situation, probably including me," Arthur replies.

She nods. "It made me feel a bit worse about it," she admits, looking down at her hands. Then she looks up and says, "He told me he was stepping aside so I could be happy and that he knew that you wouldn't make a move if he was in the picture."

"I hadn't made a move on you in ten years; what makes him think I would now?" he asks.

She angles her head. "I don't know. Maybe he thought I would initiate something," she shrugs. "He's quite good at reading people, so perhaps he noticed something I didn't," she adds. "In any case, you _did_ make a move – a very large move at that – so I guess it doesn't really matter."

Arthur nods, appearing deep in thought for a few moments. "Should I send him a 'Thank You' card?" he asks, slowly smiling.

Guinevere laughs. "I don't think that would be very well-received," she says, nudging him with her foot under the covers. She leans against his shoulder. "So why _did_ you choose now to make a move? I mean, yeah, the pact, but…"

"Well… I need to confess something to you as well," he says.

"Wait… when you officially proposed, you said something about this spring," she interjects.

"Yeah. That's all a part of it. When I told you I had a rather interesting breakup with Elena, I didn't tell you everything, either," he admits.

"Were you having naughty dreams about me, too?" she asks, grinning.

"Of course. But that wasn't the issue. Elena and I never got to that point," he says. "But essentially, she saw what Gwaine saw."

"Really? I guess… well… yeah. I mean, several people, including my own father, have made similar comments," she says. "We're never going to live that down."

"I know," he agrees. "But when Elena came right out and asked me why I had never asked you out…" he pauses, shaking his head, "I didn't have an answer for her. I honestly have no idea why it never occurred to me. I mean… you are as close to perfect as I could ever find…"

"Well, I don't know about that," she whispers, a little overwhelmed by his regard for her.

"I do," he earnestly replies. "I mean, I know you're not _really_ perfect; no one is. But in regards to what I need, what I want…" he trails off, his blue eyes roaming her face for a moment before leaning over to kiss her. "Elena said that seeing us dancing at Father's party was what really opened her eyes," he says, pulling away just enough to speak.

"Oh?" she asks, slowly opening her eyes.

"She said we looked like a young couple who were very much in love," he answers. "After she left… I realized she was right." He softly kisses her. "At least for my part. I didn't know how you felt. Not then, anyway."

"I'm glad she was right," Guinevere says, quickly becoming distracted by other, suddenly more pressing matters.

"Me too," Arthur agrees as they shift so they are lying down again. He begins kissing down her neck.

"Oh…" she sighs as he continues lower, dragging the blankets with him as he travels down her body.

xXx

They were married a month later. Neither of them wanted a large affair, for different reasons. Arthur didn't want the media attention. Guinevere didn't really relish the idea of being the center of attention of any kind. They both wanted something intimate that didn't require a lot of planning. So they kept everything very low-key, and had a small ceremony at Pendragon Manor. It was too cold to have the ceremony in the garden, but there was plenty of room inside for the small gathering.

Uther actually offered to host the event, surprising both of them. He jokingly stated that it would give him a reason to use parts of the house that haven't been touched in decades. Guinevere's pastor officiated. Merlin served as both the best man and matron of honor ("Man of Honor, if you please," he reminded everyone).

Guinevere's father took care of the food and cake, despite Uther's protests that he had staff to handle those things. Tom insisted, looking Uther square in the eye and saying, "You don't get to have all the glory, Pendragon. She's my only daughter." Uther simply nodded and agreed, respecting the other man for standing up to him. This exchange also marked the beginning of Uther and Tom's solid, if unlikely, friendship.

After the ceremony, they dined in the large dining room, then Arthur and Guinevere made their exit to spent the next two nights in the penthouse suite of the Royal Albion, The Pendragon Group's poshest establishment.

xXx

"Hey, we made the Society Page," Arthur comments Monday morning, still in bed at the hotel. He angles his tablet so Guinevere can see it.

"Well, we saw them talking to Uther and Morgana after the wedding, Arthur," she comments. "So this is hardly a surprise." Arthur's father and sister had stepped outside to deal with the handful of reporters who had turned up simply because there were more vehicles than usual outside Pendragon Manor.

"Yes, but apparently our wedding was," he laughs.

"True," she replies, resting her head on his shoulder as she reads the article.

_Arthur Pendragon, Executive Vice President of The Pendragon Group and son of CEO Uther Pendragon, was wed in a private ceremony on Saturday. Pendragon, 30, who has often been seen in the company of wealthy socialites such as Vivian Eriksson and Mithian Rodor, took Camelot by surprise by quietly marrying his longtime friend, Guinevere Leodegrance. The new Mrs. Pendragon, also 30, is employed as a botanist at Camelot Botanic Gardens._

_When asked for comment, Uther Pendragon simply stated, "We were all surprised, but she is a lovely girl and Arthur is quite happy. They are both quite happy."_

_Morgana Pendragon-Carruthers, was less shocked. "I was only surprised it took them this long to figure it out," she remarked, trademark smirk planted on the groom's sister's famously flawless face._

_The newlywed Pendragons will be taking an extended honeymoon, but the location was not divulged. Our sources claim Mrs. Pendragon plans to continue working at the Botanic Gardens._

"Why is that even relevant?" Guinevere asks. "Who cares if I want to keep working?"

Arthur sighs. "I hate to say it this way, but it's still a bit unusual for the wife of… you know…"

"A ridiculously wealthy person such as yourself?" she provides with a smile.

He nods. "Most don't bother working because they don't need to," he continues. "Though I don't know why it's _still_ considered surprising."

"Well, I'm sorry that they think it's newsworthy that I would rather continue doing a job I love than be a bored society wife," she replies.

"Don't be sorry," he reassures her, setting aside his tablet to snuggle against her, resting his head on her chest. "I'm not."

"Morgana worked before Graham was born," Guinevere points out.

"Yeah, but she's not the wife of some super posh heir to an empire," Arthur points out.

"No, she _is_ a super posh co-heir to an empire. And besides, Alvarr's family has money, too." It's not as much as the Pendragons, but the Carruthers family is definitely considered Upper Crust.

"And Morgana is 100% Uther's daughter. She has the ambition, drive, and ruthlessness he does," he says. "She would have driven everyone crazy, including herself, if she hadn't gone to work for Father."

"You're more like your mother was, aren't you?" Guinevere asks, looking up at him.

"From what I understand, yes," Arthur answers, gathering her closer and kissing her forehead. "Father doesn't talk about her much… and I think a lot of the problems he and I have had over the years come from the fact that I remind him too much of her."

"Problems? I should think that would make him more fond of you," she says. "My father frequently tells me how much I favor Mum, and I can see the love he still holds for her in his eyes every time."

"Major difference between Tom and Uther," Arthur says, chuckling humorlessly. "I think part of him broke when she died, to be honest."

Guinevere nods. She knows Uther well enough by now to understand what Arthur means. "I'm sure your mother was wonderful. If you take after her, I'm certain of it."

"I've never heard a word against her," he says. "I know people do not like to speak ill of the dead, but… I've actually done some digging. Public records, you know. She was very generous. Philanthropic with both money and time. Everyone loved her."

Guinevere lifts up, leaning over him and smoothing his hair away from his forehead. "Everyone loves you, too, Arthur," she says, kissing him. "Me, most of all," she adds with a smile. "Uther has charisma, but he lacks charm. People follow him because they fear him." She kisses him again. "You have both, and people listen to you because they respect you." Another kiss. "And they respect you because you respect _them._ " She kisses him again, longer this time. "It's something I've always admired about you. Always loved about you."

He wraps his arms around her, then rolls them, tangling the sheets around their bodies. "Everyone is going to love you, too, Guinevere," he says. "I know you dislike being the center of attention, and I promise you I will try to keep the vultures at bay as best I can." He's already made arrangements for her to have a personal security guard, and she agreed because she had front-row seats to the Nimueh Unpleasantness, but only on the condition that her guard keep a respectable distance unless necessary.

"I know. You won't always be able to do so, though," she says, stroking his cheek.

He places a soft, lingering kiss on her lips. "Just be your usual amazing self and no one will be able to find a single fault with you," he says. Then he chuckles. "As if putting on airs is something you would even consider doing in a million years," he adds, smiling and shaking his head at his own ridiculous advice. He drops his head and kisses her soundly, reaching down to pull her legs around his hips.

"Arthur," she breathes between kisses, "we have to go home today…" she continues, pulling her lips away again. Undeterred, Arthur simply kisses down her neck. "It's already past ten…"

He lifts his head. "We don't have a checkout time, Guinevere," he says. "And the 'Do Not Disturb' is still on the door, not that we really _need_ it." His thumb skims across her nipple, and he kisses her neck again. "Enjoy being a posh snob for one more day," he murmurs against her skin.

"You're very persuasive," she whispers, giving up.

xXx

Guinevere looks back and forth between two paint samples, trying to decide. "Arthur?"

"Hmm?" Arthur responds, glancing up from the football match for a second before returning his eyes to the screen.

"What do you think for the kitchen? Lemon yellow or sage green? I like the yellow, because it's nice and sunny, but the sage is just so pretty and soothing," she says.

"Whatever you think is best, Love," he answers.

She purses her lips and very deliberately sets the paint chips down on the table.

They had spent a lovely two week honeymoon in Tahiti, in blissful seclusion, away from the outside world, mobile phones off.

When they returned, Arthur told Guinevere she could redecorate his house – their house – as she liked. She was excited about the prospect.

At first. They've been home for just over a week, and Arthur has made it pretty clear that he has no intention of giving her any input, which saddened Guinevere. And now, she has just decided that she is _not_ going to do this alone.

"I was thinking of painting the master bedroom either cotton candy pink or bright fuchsia," she says, looking over at him.

"Sounds good."

She tightly clasps her hands together. "Maybe we should remove the toilets in favor of digging a pit and putting up an outhouse in the garden."

"Mmm-hmm."

"I thought for the nursery we'd do a nice…" she pauses a moment, thinking, "zombie apocalypse theme. Paint the walls dark gray, get some deep red to splatter around like blood… make some cutouts of walkers to add some interest. Maybe even paint 'Don't open – dead inside' on the doors."

"Whatever you li— what?" Arthur finally gives her his full attention. "Guinevere… did you say 'nursery'? Are you…?"

Guinevere crosses her arms over her chest. "No, Arthur, I'm not. You know I'm still on the pill." His expression clouds and his mouth opens, but she cuts him off before he can say anything. "I was trying to see how long it would take for you _actually_ hear what I was saying," she says. "And I know you don't care that much about either of these teams," she adds, waving her hand at the television before crossing her arms again.

He turns off the TV and scoots closer, turning to face her. "I'm sorry, Guinevere," he says, resting his hands on her crossed forearms. "It won't happen again."

"Arthur," she says, sighing. "I would simply like your opinions on… all of this," she moves one arm to gesture to the paint samples, pamphlets, and notebook on the coffee table.

"I will honestly be happy with whatever you choose, Love," he says.

She pulls away from him and stands. "That's not the point," she says.

"What do you mean?" he asks, looking up at her, puzzled.

She turns away for a moment, blinking back tears of frustration. "I don't want to do this by myself, Arthur!" she says, turning towards him. "I'm not a decorator you've hired, I'm your _wife_. This should be something we do _together,_ to… you know, grow closer. Make _our_ _house_ a real home, a home we love, something of which we can be proud," she says, swiping away a tear. "You said I could have whatever I wanted… well, what I want is your input."

Arthur is standing and moving towards her before she finishes speaking, and he wraps his arms around her, tucking his nose into her hair. "I'm so sorry, Guinevere," he murmurs. "I thought… well, I guess I really didn't think, did I?" he asks, leaning back to look at her. He wipes her wet cheeks with his thumbs, then kisses her forehead. "I don't have much of an eye for this type of thing, that's all…"

"You've never even tried," she says, glancing around at his plain white walls and nondescript furniture.

He nods. "For you, I'll try."

"Thank you," she whispers, and he hooks his finger under her chin, lifting her face for a kiss.

"Let's go upstairs," he whispers, his hands beginning to wander.

"No," she replies, resisting his advances. She catches one of his hands and pulls him back to the couch.

"Here? Okay, I'm game," he says, leaning towards her.

She picks up the two paint samples and holds them up in front of her like a shield. "Yellow or green for the kitchen?"

xXx

"That was a lot of children," Guinevere says, slumping into the passenger seat of the car after Graham's birthday party.

"Shh…" Arthur says, closing his eyes. "I need a moment to remember what silence is."

She smiles and takes his hand as they sit in the quiet. After some seconds, she giggles and Arthur starts the car.

"It wasn't a bad party," she allows. "Just… loud."

"Morgana does know how to throw a party, even if it is for kids," he replies.

They don't talk much on the way home, each wondering if the other is thinking about the pointed remarks Uther tossed their way about more grandchildren.

Once home, Arthur decides to address it. "Sorry about my father," he says.

"In general, or are you referring to something specific?" Guinevere replies with a grin, reaching up to take her hair down as she walks up to the bedroom.

"You know," he answers, following. "What he said. About grandchildren."

"Yeah," she sighs, walking into the bathroom to put away the hairpins she's just mined from her mass of curls. They are stored in the same drawer as her birth control pills. She's still not sure about having children. She'd like more time to enjoy simply being Arthur and Gwen, but she is also mindful of her age and family history. Her mother didn't have Elyan until she was in her late twenties. Her second pregnancy with Guinevere was in her early thirties, and it was difficult. She got pregnant a third time when she was nearly 35, and miscarried.

"Guinevere?" Arthur asks, walking into the bathroom. "Are you all right, Love?" he asks. "You've been standing here staring into the… oh."

"We _have_ been talking about it," she replies. "And I'm not exactly getting any younger."

"We're only 30," he says, closing the drawer before wrapping his arms around her. "But I know why you're worried. I haven't forgotten," he quickly adds, kissing her temple.

She nods, letting him hold her. "Is this what we want to do?" she asks.

"I don't know if I'm ready, but… I don't think anyone is _really_ ready, are they?"

"Probably not," she replies with a sigh. "Elyan and Percival are trying to adopt… Merlin and Freya are expecting _twins_ … Even Leon and Mithian already have a child."

"It's an epidemic," Arthur lightly jokes. "Come. Let's go outside and watch the sunset," he says, sliding his hand down her arm to take hers.

"Are you hungry?" Guinevere asks.

"After that party, I don't think I'll be able to eat for three days," he answers. "Unless you're talking about pizza."

She laughs. "Maybe in a little while."

They settle into a large hammock strung between two large trees in the back garden, cuddled together, enjoying the warm May evening.

"Do you want to have children?" Guinevere asks.

"I think I'd like one," Arthur answers. "But if it's not what you want…"

"One could be do-able," she agrees after a long moment. "It's like you said though: I don't think anyone is ever really ready."

"You're in charge here," he says. "I won't force you if you truly don't want to have a child with me." He kisses the top of her head. "And this isn't like the paint color thing, I promise. I have an opinion, but it's your body."

"I know," she whispers, snuggling closer to him.

They watch the sun slip behind the trees, then drop lower until the sky turns pink and orange, then purple, and finally, black.

"Are you getting cold?" Arthur asks.

"Let's go inside and order that pizza," Guinevere answers.

They climb out of the hammock and as they walk back to the house, hand in hand, she says, "I'll call my doctor Monday to talk about going off of the pill."

He stops. "You're sure?"

"No," she answers, biting her lip. "But I don't want to regret missing an opportunity for something that could be wonderful just because I'm not sure." She lifts up on tiptoe and kisses him. "We waited too long to be together. If we wait too long to have a child we may miss our chance altogether."


	8. 31: Epilogue

"Have you heard anything yet?" Arthur's voice sounds anxious – still – as he calls her – again – on the afternoon of their 31st birthdays.

"No, I haven't," Guinevere answers. "If I don't hear anything by four, I will call them, all right?"

He looks at his watch. It's just past two. "You went in at eight," he says.

"Yes. You don't want them to rush, do you?"

" _Yes!_ "

She laughs. "Love, I need to get back to work. I have my mobile in my pocket, and I promise you I will call you as soon as I hear, all right?"

"All right," he says. "I'm getting bugger all done today. You know that, right?"

"I know. Go back to pretending to work," she chuckles.

Guinevere had finished the pack of birth control pills she was on back in May and then stopped taking them. On the advice of her doctor, they began earnestly trying to get pregnant two months later, in late July, in order to allow the drugs to completely leave her system. Her monthly was now two weeks overdue, so she made an appointment to have a blood test that morning, since her doctor also insisted that the store-bought pregnancy tests cannot be trusted.

Even so, she had taken one a few days earlier, and it turned up negative. When her period still did not arrive, she called.

And has been waiting all day for the results.

A few of her coworkers have noticed her distracted demeanor, and she blamed it on not sleeping well the previous night. While that was true, she didn't want to give anything away. Arthur should be the first to know, not anyone else. She found herself being glad for the first time ever that Freya no longer worked at the Gardens, because her friend would have definitely been able to tell there was something up. Freya opted to stay home with their children after giving birth to their twin boys.

Guinevere circulates amongst the shelves, checking the latest additions to the seed bank. She makes some notes, then stretches, tilting her head back and forth. _I need to go outside._ "Sefa, I'm going to go check a few things outside," she says. The younger woman nods, and Guinevere heads out.

She grabs a sweater and walks outside. It is sunny but cool today, and she smiles, thinking back a year to the unseasonable heat of her last birthday and how that day changed her life. _This day may change my life again._ Her feet carry her without much thought, and she finds herself walking towards Arthur's mother's garden. The Ygraine Pendragon Memorial Garden. While it isn't strictly Guinevere's job, she has always liked to make sure that this particular area is being properly cared for. And now that she is a Pendragon herself, she feels she has that right. Dr. Gaius indulges her because he has always been fond of Guinevere. He also knew Ygraine and has told Guinevere that Arthur's mother would have loved her.

Her phone rings just as she sits on the bench bearing a plaque with her late mother-in-law's name. She sighs and pulls it out of her pocket, assuming it is Arthur again.

It isn't.

xXx

There is a quiet knock on Arthur's door, and he looks up, annoyed.

"Emma, I asked not to be disturbed," he calls out, then turns his attention back to his computer screen. His door quietly clicks open, and when he looks up, his anger immediately dissipates.

"Even if it's me?" Guinevere asks, stepping inside and closing the door behind her.

He stands and crosses to her, reaching for her, but hesitating, his entire bearing a question.

"I wanted to tell you in person," she says, hoping her face doesn't give her away. She holds her hands out, and he takes them, holding them tenderly.

"You heard?" he asks, looking like he is about ready to jump out of his skin.

She nods, then takes one of his hands and places it against her stomach. "We are," she says.

"There's a baby there?" he asks, his eyes widening.

"Yes," Guinevere confirms. "The nurse said I was probably only about three weeks along, but I am definitely pregnant."

Overcome, Arthur wraps his arms around her in a hug that lifts her off of her feet. He tucks his face into her neck, and she can feel his tears against her skin.

He sets her on her feet again and kisses her, gently cradling her face in his hands. "This is amazing," he says, wiping the tears from her cheeks.

She returns the gesture, rubbing her thumbs across his cheekbones. "It's so weird… hasn't sunk in yet."

"I know," he agrees. "It will though." He kisses her again, then drops to his knees and kisses her stomach.

"Arthur!" she exclaims, fondly chuckling at how sweet he can be.

He stands and kisses her again. "Let's go home. Wait. Do you have to go back to work?"

"No. I told Dr. Gaius I wasn't feeling well," she answers. "I've been kind of a space cadet all day, so it didn't take much convincing."

"Right," he says, going over to his desk to shut things down for the day. "Okay. Let's go."

She takes his hand and they walk out. A very timid-looking Emma watches from behind the hotel's reception desk. When she sees Arthur smiling, she looks very confused.

"See you Monday," Arthur says. "Sorry I was a bit of a prat today. Had a lot on my mind."

"Yes, sir," Emma answers. "Um, have a good weekend. Always nice to see you, Mrs. Pendragon."

"You too, Emma," Guinevere answers. She stops and quietly tells her, "Everything is fine, don't worry."

Emma nods, but then the phone rings, drawing her attention back to her job.

"Do you want to call your father?" Arthur asks as they get into his car.

"Do you want to call _your_ father?" she asks back.

"Not really."

She smiles. "Let's keep it to ourselves… just for tonight," she suggests.

He starts the car, but doesn't shift it into gear yet. He leans over and kisses her. "I love you so much, Guinevere."

"I love you, too Arthur," she replies.

Arthur pulls out of the parking garage and heads home, Guinevere's hand in his.

For the first time in twelve years, they do not go out for their birthdays.


End file.
